A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

Beneath a Christmas Moon

ISBN 9781419913280
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Lander’s Moon Copyright © 2007 Eden Robins
Paradise Designs Copyright © 2007 Ariana Dupré
Vampire’s Christmas Carol Copyright © 2007 Karen McCullough

Edited by Ann Leveille, Helen Woodall, Briana St. James.
Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book Publication December 2007



With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in
part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Cerridwen Press, 1056 Home
Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

BENEATH

A

CHRISTMAS

MOON

L

ANDER

’

S

M

OON

Eden Robins

P

ARADISE

D

ESIGNS

Ariana Dupré

V

AMPIRE

’

S

C

HRISTMAS

C

AROL

Karen McCullough

L

ANDER

’

S

M

OON

Eden Robins

Dedication

To my own handsome beast, Richard. I’m so glad we found each other.

Into the murk of the world awhile,

Slim Moon, dim moon, adding a smile.

Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,

Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this.

Under the spell of your witchery,

Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.

From The New Moon by Zora Bernice May Cross

Eden Robins

Chapter One

The moon looked ready to explode.
Round and bloated, bursting at the seams, it filled the night sky and sprinkled

everything its bright beams touched with reflections of light, tiny pinpoints of sparkling
diamonds decorating the snow-laden branches of each pine tree and bejeweling the
white-blanketed ground below. Selena Alvarez knew that lunar rays were supposed to
be curative, capable of healing physical ailments. Yet tonight, as she stared out the bay
window of her boyfriend’s rustic log cabin, the full moon hung ominous, larger than
usual, unnaturally looming too close for comfort.

It was an omen.
A portent of something to come.
Something bad. Something very, very bad.
She could feel it in her bones.
And one thing Selena had learned as a healer, her bones were never wrong.
“You stupid bitch!”
Todd’s voice made her jump and she swung around to face him. Her heart sped up

to a staccato beat and dread seeped into her the minute she saw his expression. Brows
knitted tightly together, a snarl curled his lips as he stormed her way.

He was furious, and by the way he kept stumbling over his own feet he was also

drunk. That was never a good combination. But with someone like Todd it could be
downright deadly. Her snarling, intoxicated boyfriend stood over six feet, with a very
tattooed, very muscular build. She had learned early on in their three-month
relationship just how strong he was. Much to her dismay and discomfort, she had been
out with him on a number of occasions that ended with him punching someone out.

He’d always claimed that the other guy started it and Selena had let it pass. But

deep down she knew he was lying. Instinctively she sensed that Todd enjoyed coming
to blows with other guys almost as much as he enjoyed beating them to a pulp. And, if
nothing else, Selena knew she should trust her instincts.

“Look at this Selena,” Todd yelled, thrusting one of his shirts in her face. “I asked

you to iron my clothes before we left. What the hell is this?”

Selena pulled her head back a little so she could get a better look at the shirt.
“That shirt wasn’t in the ironing pile, Todd,” she carefully explained, knowing how

fussy he was about his clothes. “I ironed all the clothes in the pile you gave me.”

Todd was a “little” obsessive when it came to ironing. He had explained that his

mother never ironed anything while he was growing up and that other kids had made

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Lander’s Moon

fun of him because he came to school looking wrinkled and disheveled. He had also
told her that he needed a woman who would help him maintain the image he wanted to
present to the world.

As lead singer of the rock band Violent Silhouette, he strove to keep up

appearances. The band had recently skyrocketed on the music charts with their single
“You Got It Baby”, and their new song “Ain’t It The Truth” was close to making it to
the number-one slot. Todd had demonstrated to her many times during the past few
months they’d been together that he liked to be, as he put it, well dressed to impress.
And wrinkles were unacceptable for that image.

“I don’t give a damn which pile it was or wasn’t in, Selena,” he growled, getting

right in her face. “It needs to be ironed. It should have been done. You know how I feel
about this, the pressure I’m under, and yet you can’t do one simple thing to please me.
You’re just like my mother, aren’t you? Worthless!”

Todd grabbed her shoulders and shook her so hard her neck snapped back

painfully.

“You’re just like all the others, Selena,” he said, giving her one last shake. “Just like

all the others. And you need to be taught a lesson just like they did, don’t you?”

Selena’s eyes widened in fear and tingles of premonition slithered up her spine.

Something was terribly wrong. Todd had gotten angry before but never, never to the
point where he physically hurt her.

This time was different.
Not only because he was hurting her but because of the crazed rage she saw in his

eyes. It was the first time he had shown this side of himself. It was frightening. She
knew she needed to calm him down fast.

“Todd, I’m sorry. I must have missed that shirt in the pile, why don’t I iron it—”
Selena’s head swiveled to the left and she almost stumbled as Todd’s fist crashed

into her cheek. Pain splintered through her skull and the world tilted. Her balance
returned only a moment before he hit her again, this time connecting with her nose.
Nothing cracked, but she fell back from the force of the blow and landed flat on the
floor.

“You won’t forget to iron my shirts again, will you, Selena?” he gloated before

savagely kicking her twice in the ribs.

Selena lost the ability to breathe. Gasping to catch her breath, her mind scrambled

to make sense of the pain Todd was inflicting on her. Instinctively she scooted
backward, crabwalking along the smooth wooden floor in order to put some distance
between her and the maniac she’d thought was her boyfriend, glaring menacingly
down at her.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet,” he said,

leering at her. “Don’t run from me, bitch. It will only make things worse.”

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Eden Robins

His legs ate up the little space she had gained. Bending down, he lifted her up by

the front of her sweater and pulled his fist back for another blow. Selena struggled
against his hold while at the same time steeling herself for more pain. But just as he
arched his fist toward her face the phone rang.

Todd froze mid-swing at the sound.
Selena released the pent-up breath she had been holding.
And like a light switch going out the fury and insanity in Todd’s eyes faded. In

their place was calm and logic. Selena’s head slammed against the hard floor as he
abruptly released her sweater without a warning then strode to where the phone sat on
the coffee table and answered it.

“Hello? Hey, how’s it going, man? No, it’s not a bad time. Let’s talk.”
His voice sounded normal, happy even, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As

if he hadn’t just been beating a woman up. As if there was nothing wrong. As if Selena
weren’t lying on the ground with her nose bleeding and in pain.

What kind of insanity was this?
As Todd spoke and began pacing the floor, Selena knew now was not the time to

analyze the situation. What she needed to do was get the hell out of there, fast. Ignoring
the shooting pain in her ribs and her throbbing nose, she managed to pull herself to her
feet. Slowly walking backward, she kept close vigil on Todd as he continued to talk. She
heard him say his agent’s name and said a small prayer of thanks. Whenever Todd’s
agent called, they usually got into long, heated discussions. She hoped tonight wouldn’t
be the exception.

Todd was so caught up in his conversation he didn’t notice her as she slowly

backed away. When she bumped into the front door, she wasted no time. Turning
around and throwing it open, she ran, pumping her legs as fast as possible, leaping over
branches and weaving through trees.

The fight or flight instinct had taken hold and adrenaline shot through her. Pain

faded into the background as one single thought screamed through her brain.

Get away!
It wasn’t until she stumbled and fell face-first into the snow that she remembered

where she was and the weather. Gasping for breath, she rolled over onto her back and
stared up into the night sky. Snowflakes sprinkled over her face and she gave in to the
irresistible urge to lick them from her lips. Swiping with her tongue, she let the icy feel
of them in her mouth calm her down.

Sitting up, she slowly glanced around and listened.
And waited.
Other than a slight wind whispering through the trees, it was a silent night.
Luckily she wore a sweater over her long-sleeved shirt and still had her boots on

from earlier in the day. But as the wind suddenly picked up and the snowflakes began
falling faster, Selena wondered exactly how long she could last outside. The

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Lander’s Moon

temperature would drop fast through the night and, from the looks of it the storm was
only getting worse.

What should she do?
She couldn’t go back to Todd. Who knew what he would do to her? She shuddered

just thinking about it. And a quick peek at the endless forest around her told her she
wouldn’t know how to make her way back even if she wanted to head in that direction.
Each way looked virtually the same, with no guides or indicators to tell her which way
she had come or which way she should go. And she knew, because Todd had gloated
about how secluded the place was, that the closest neighbors were ten miles in any
direction.

Maybe she should just try to build or find some sort of shelter and stay put?
But what if he were looking for her? What if he had decided to hunt her down and

finish what he had started? Selena suddenly heard noises she hadn’t noticed before.
Was that a twig snapping? Were those bushes shuffling because Todd was ready to leap
out from behind them and attack her? Was he hiding somewhere, watching her, waiting
for just the right moment to attack? Fear spread through her, cold and heavy. Her heart
pounded hard and raced out of control, as if ready to burst from her chest.

She had to keep moving.

* * * * *

Lander smelled blood.
And female.
It was an irresistible combination. His instincts reigned supreme. The lion he was

took control. The human side of him stayed in the shadows.

Blood guided his steps.
The female’s scent quickened them.
The urges to feed and mate warred within him as he stalked his prey. The cold,

biting wind whipping against his long mane had little impact, never penetrating his
thick hide. The freezing, powdery snow couldn’t reach past the thick protective pads of
his huge paws. And the dark night, lit only by the full moon, was almost as bright as
day to his feline eyes.

Evening or day, it mattered little. Lander was on the hunt. And he was a master of

it. Once he began to stalk he always, always caught his prey. His ailuranthropy, or
ability to transform into a lion, as well as his long lifespan and years of practice, had
much to do with his success. Immortality had its benefits. As did being a demigod, the
product of a union between Zeus and the Greek moon goddess Selene.

The female’s scent was getting stronger. Now he could even smell her fear. He

would catch up to her soon. He could already hear twigs and branches breaking and
snapping from her clumsy movements through the forest.

His forest.

9

Eden Robins

This was his territory. He patrolled it every night, making sure no rivals tried to

claim it, and marked it so all who entered knew this place belonged to him. Hunting
was plentiful and he wouldn’t give the land up easily. Life was good, except for one
thing. He had no mate, no female to share his life with. But he was used to that. He had
spent much of his long, long life alone. Females had came and gone, satisfying his needs
while he had satisfied theirs. The situation never lasted long. After a time, when the
females realized he meant what he said, that he didn’t want to settle down or have
children, they eventually went their own way.

But now, as her scent grew stronger and his body hardened, he knew he wouldn’t

eat the female. All that mattered in that moment was that he have her, that she bend to
his will. That he turn her over onto her hands and knees and bury his cock deep inside.
The female would be his for as long as he wanted her. And since it had been a while, he
would take his pleasure for as long and as often as he needed to. Only after he was
satiated, only after he fucked her as many times as necessary to get the primal lust out
of his system would he let her leave.

Until then she would belong to him.
The lion roared in triumph as he caught sight of her.
He had found his prey.

* * * * *

Great.
Just great.
Selena cursed under her breath.
She was cold, scared, injured and incredibly lost.
Not exactly how she imagined spending her Christmas vacation.
It was snowing harder. The flakes were falling down so fast she could barely see in

front of her. And the wind had turned. It now pushed shafts of cold directly against her.

Propelling herself forward, Selena tried to ignore the pain and the cold, but as the

minutes passed she acknowledged she wouldn’t be able to hold out that long against
the elements. She needed to find some sort of shelter. Or build something to protect her
from the soaking snow and icy wind.

There was just one problem.
She was so not the outdoors type. She had never taken any sort of wilderness

survival courses while growing up, and her parents had never sent her away to camp in
the summer. In fact, she couldn’t remember her parents ever taking her on any camping
trips in the woods.

As a homeopathic healer Selena’s knowledge of the wilderness was limited to the

healing ability of the plants within it. She could talk all about how lavender was great
for relaxing, or that mint was wonderful for stimulating the mind and calming the

10

Lander’s Moon

stomach but when it came to constructing a tent or building a fire and she didn’t have a
clue.

Where was a good cave when a girl needed one? Shaking her head at her

foolishness she trudged on, trying not to let the gravity of the situation get to her or
admit to the panic that was slowly but surely welling up inside her. But as the minutes
passed the wind grew stronger, whipping cruelly against her exposed face and hands
with icy fingers that began to permeate her clothing.

She knew she was in trouble when she started to feel numb and lethargy

insidiously slid over her.

She tried to recite some of the healing chants she had been taught in the hopes that

it would keep her safe and keep her awake. Another broken branch lying hidden in the
brush caused her to lose her footing and flounder, flailing her arms wide as she
attempted not to fall. Despite her efforts her body wouldn’t cooperate. She fell
facedown into the snow once again, but this time it was much more difficult to turn
over onto her back. Once she managed it, glancing up at the snow falling sky, she
couldn’t help but be awed by the beauty and power of her surroundings. As humans, so
many, including her, felt that they were beyond the power and threat of the
environment. Now Selena understood, maybe for the very first time, just how
precarious that situation was and just how much the environment still could and would
shape the world and the inhabitants of it.

Strangely, she no longer felt the icy wind or biting temperatures of the frigid world

she found herself trapped in. Despite the danger, her sleepiness became stronger and
more persistent, seductively called her name over and over again. It was hard to resist.
Part of her mind screamed a command to get up, to fight and keep going, but the other
part felt too tired to move.

The latter won out.
Selena’s eyes slowly fluttered closed.

* * * * *

Staring down at her, Lander was captivated by her pixie features. Soft, feathery

midnight black hair spread out fanlike around her, haloing the delicate beauty of her
face. She was a petite female. He imagined her having small breasts and a tiny waist,
yet with curves in all the right places under the bulky sweater she wore. She looked
more ethereal and fragile than the type of female he usually preferred, yet her scent
held an allure that was hard to resist. It called to him, somewhere deep in his gut. And
if nothing else, he always listened to his gut.

He leaned closer, inhaling her sweet scent, and felt her breath flutter against his

whiskers.

Good.

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Eden Robins

She was still alive but from the blue shade of her lips and erratic pattern of her

breathing he knew that could easily change if he didn’t get her somewhere warm, fast.
Reining in the lust that raged through him, he bent his head low and nuzzled her chest.
As gently as possible Lander clamped his teeth around her sweater. Pulling her up off
the ground, he noted that her body remained limp. Arms wide at her sides and legs
dangling, she hung like a rag doll from his mouth.

He knew his next actions might hurt her but he had to get her on his back if he

wanted to get her someplace safe. But just as he was about to swing her up her whole
body jerked. She raised her head and her slightly unfocused gaze found his.

He noticed she had the most incredibly alive eyes he had ever seen. Despite her

obvious disorientation her deep, chocolate-brown eyes flamed bright with a kind of
inner light not many mortals possessed. If eyes were truly windows to the soul then this
female’s soul held the strength and healing light of the sun, moon and stars. He
recognized what she was right away.

A healer.
One who cared for the mental, physical and spiritual well-being of others.
But as her gaze widened in fear and her mouth opened in preparation for a scream,

he knew he needed to focus more on her well-being than what he saw in her eyes. He
shook his head back and forth quickly, swinging her from side to side. Not hard enough
to hurt her, but enough to shake her up a bit and stop her from screaming.

It worked. Lander assumed she fainted as her body went limp once more. At least

he hoped she had just fainted. He didn’t think his shake would have killed her, but he
hadn’t had much practice calming his prey instead of tearing it apart.

In other circumstances he wouldn’t care if she screamed but the scent of another

had reached him and his protective instincts kicked in. The human male’s odor was
getting stronger. And something about it didn’t smell right. This male was bad and
Lander didn’t want him anywhere near his female.

Lander had no problem fighting for her if he had to. In fact, his first urge was to

stand and fight. But considering the woman’s condition, getting her someplace warm
and safe was more of a priority. Gazing in the direction he knew the man was heading
from, Lander growled around the fuzzy sweater between his teeth. Turning toward
home, he carried his female with him.

* * * * *

Selena felt the edge of awareness trying to pull her awake. Yet she felt so safe and

warm where she was. She didn’t want to leave. She was comfortable. The pull got
stronger. And as it did she began to sense the world around her.

But none of it made sense.

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Lander’s Moon

A woman humming softly. A glimpse of light trying to peek through the spaces

between her lashes. The sound of someone moving around the room she was in. The
smell of bacon.

Bacon?
Okay, this definitely didn’t add up. First of all she didn’t live with anyone. Second

of all she didn’t recognize the sound of the humming woman’s voice. And third she
rarely if ever ate bacon because of how unhealthy it was.

Curiosity got the better of her.
Selena cracked open one eye just enough to peek through her lashes. She was

surprised to see a plump, matronly woman wearing something that resembled a long
dark housecoat with a white apron over it. She was walking around dusting the
furniture in a room Selena had never seen before.

Trying to shake off the lethargy and focus, her memory suddenly resurfaced. Selena

stiffened and her heart sped up as she recalled exactly what had happened. She had
been running away from Todd after he had beaten her up. She had wandered through a
blizzard, not sure where to go, and had fallen face-first in the snow. She remembered
turning onto her back and feeling the snow fall on her face but after that it was a blank.

Another memory skittered through her consciousness but she quickly shook it off

as delusional. The huge lion couldn’t have been real. She must have been imagining it.
With the cold getting to her, plus her injuries, her mind had probably been playing
tricks on her. Ye the image of the thick golden mane surrounding its strong and noble
face was so clear, as was the memory the lion’s expressive eyes. The lion’s eyes had
been intelligent and keen but they had also held emotional depth. She had sensed
compassion, sadness and hunger. It had all been there. Instead of death and coldness,
she had seen life. They had looked more human than animal.

No, it must have been a dream.
She would leave it at that. More importantly, what Selena needed to know was

where she was and what had happened. Opening her eyes fully, she tried to get a better
look at her surroundings. She must have moved enough to be noticed because the
woman stopped dusting and looked her way.

A huge grin spread across her face and her eyes were filled with such warmth and

kindness that Selena had the irresistible urge to smile back. Leaving her duster on the
table she had been cleaning, the woman walked her way, wiping her hands on her
apron as she did.

“Are you feeling better?”
Selena sat up in the bed. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Her whole upper

body was stiff and ached. The urge to vomit came swift and strong. Covering her
mouth, she looked around her in panic. The woman sensed the problem immediately
and grabbed the bowl sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. Placing it under Selena’s
chin, she gently held her back in support.

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Eden Robins

“Poor dear,” she clucked in sympathy. “I thought you might not feel one hundred

percent when you woke up. So I brought the bowl just in case.”

Once Selena emptied the contents of her stomach and the world stopped spinning

crazily around her, the nausea passed almost as quickly as it had come.

“I, uh, I think I’m okay now. Thanks.”
“I’m glad to hear it. By the way, my name’s Margaret Walters. But you can call me

Maggie,” she said, removing the bowl from under Selena’s chin.

“Hi. I’m Selena. And thanks for your help,” she said, motioning to the bowl, now

resting back on the nightstand.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she said, giving Selena’s back a gentle pat before sitting on

the bed beside her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. When you were brought here last night I
wasn’t sure how things were going to turn out. Your lips were blue and your skin ice-
cold, you had been bleeding and I couldn’t wake you.”

“I don’t remember much about last night,” Selena murmured evasively, avoiding

Maggie’s gaze. She didn’t want to share what had happened with Todd. She knew it
wasn’t her fault but still she felt ashamed about Todd hitting her. And she definitely
wasn’t going to comment on her lion experience. That was just way too out there to
mention.

“Well, it’s a good thing Lander found you when he did. I don’t know how much

longer you would have lasted out there in that blizzard.”

“Who’s Lander?” Selena asked.
“Lander Paletsos. He’s my employer and the owner of this house. While he was out

for his nightly walk he found you and brought you home.”

Nightly walk? Todd had said no one lived closer than ten miles from his cabin.

How could someone be out for a walk that close to Todd’s place, especially in the
middle of a snowstorm? It didn’t make sense.

One of many things that didn’t make sense as of late.
Ignoring the ever-present ache in her side, she sat up straighter and swung her legs

off the bed.

“Well, I should thank your employer. Where can I find him?”
Concern etched Maggie’s face as she rose and put a restraining hand on Selena’s

shoulder.

“Wait a minute, dear. You, um, really aren’t ready to meet Mr. Paletsos, er, yet.”
Maggie’s statement fed her curiosity even more.
“Why wouldn’t I be ready to meet him, Maggie? Is there something you’re not

telling me?”

Color stained Maggie’s cheeks but she shook her head. “No, dear. It’s just that, well,

you’re not dressed!”

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Lander’s Moon

Selena didn’t need to follow Maggie’s embarrassed gaze as a whisper of air brushed

against her skin in places that left her little doubt what Maggie was referring to. She felt
her own cheeks grow warm.

She was naked!
Somehow, someway, she didn’t have a stitch of clothes on. And if it weren’t for the

slip of sheet barely covering her bottom half she would be flashing Maggie a lot more
skin. Snatching the sheet over her, she quickly covered up.

“Um, thanks for telling me. For some reason I just didn’t think about the clothes

thing,” she confessed in embarrassment.

“I’m sure you have many other things on your mind, Selena,” Maggie assured her

with a gentle smile. “I think I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

“Thanks, Maggie. That would be great but before you go I have one question.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Did you undress me last night?”
“No, I didn’t,” Maggie replied, avoiding her gaze as she rose from the bed and

strode toward the door. “I think you should speak to Mr. Paletsos about that.”

Maggie made a quick escape before she could ask the housekeeper more and Selena

was left alone to ponder her situation.

Why couldn’t she get her brain in gear and remember everything that had

happened last night? Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she tried to bring
the events back to her.

The image of Todd hitting her was vivid and clear, as was the moment she fell in

the snow for the second time and turned to face the snowy sky. But beyond that
everything was a confusing blur. The giant lion’s face seemed real, as did his
expressive, beautiful eyes.

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Eden Robins

Chapter Two

“May I come in?”
Selena jumped at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice.
Yanking the sheet up to her chin, she swung toward the sound and saw the best-

looking man she had ever seen in her entire life. Tall and well built, he walked across
the room with a graceful confidence that belied his size. His faded jeans hugged him in
all the right places and his snug black t-shirt clung to muscles that flexed and slid under
the cotton material as he moved. Her fingers suddenly itched to reach out and touch his
chest, to feel the hardness she knew lay beneath his clothes.

Resisting the urge to touch him, she clenched her fists tighter around the sheet was

holding up.

Still, she couldn’t help looking.
Golden blond hair reached just past his shoulders and lay against smooth tan skin.

Classic features, a square jaw and full yet firm lips, a strong nose and sculpted
cheekbones sat below incredible golden-green eyes. As he drew closer Selena saw that
his eyes were really the color of a deep forest, with specks of gold sprinkled throughout
the irises. And the long, light-colored lashes surrounding them would be the envy of
any girl.

Those eyes.
Where had she seen them before? They looked familiar for some reason, yet Selena

knew she had never met this man. She would have remembered meeting a hunk like
him no matter how long ago it might have been.

“Are you okay?” The hunk asked, his lips curling up into an encouraging smile.
Selena wanted to respond. She really did, but that smile threw her for a loop. It

should be outlawed, or censored, or…or something! It was just way, way too sexy, and
she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from it.

The man cleared his throat loudly.
Realizing she was being rude, she tore her stare from his lips and met his eyes.
“Hi,” he said, looking intently into her eyes as if searching for something. “You

okay?”

Probably insanity. He was probably searching for insanity in her eyes. Because only

an insane woman would stand there, mouth agape, no sound coming out. Come on lips,
work, please work!

Her mind must have begged enough because miraculously her mouth managed to

squeak out some words. “I’m fine.”

16

Lander’s Moon

His smile widened, as if her words highly amused him. The strangest part of it was

she wanted to smile back. Suddenly joy and excitement filled her. The urge to laugh
overtook her and, helpless to stop herself, she let out a small giggle. But instead of a
laugh the sound that escaped was more of a snort. The kind a piglet would make on its
very first try.

Eyes widening, her hand flew immediately to cover her mouth while the other still

clutched tightly to the one scrap of cloth separating her modesty from a world of
embarrassment. The hunk’s eyes crinkled at the corners and a low chuckle rumbled
from his chest. The sound was so soothing, so welcome that Selena couldn’t help but
smile once more.

“I’m glad to hear you’re fine,” he said, humor fading from his eyes. “But last night

you didn’t seem fine and this morning your face helps me understand why.”

Her face?
Ah, Todd had left a mark.
Deciding she would take a look at her face later, she asked the first question that

came to mind. “You’re the one who found me last night?”

“That would be me,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “I’m Lander Paletsos. At your

service, Miss—?”

“Selena Alvarez,” she introduced herself, trying hard not to be affected by the

man’s handsomeness or the fact that she was naked under the sheet she held up. “And
thank you for saving me last night. If you hadn’t come along I don’t think I would have
made it.”

“I’m glad I could help. It was not a good night to be wandering through the forest.”
“I agree. So why were you wandering around—”
“Oh! I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Maggie said, stopping short

immediately after walking into the room.

“You’re fine, Maggie. I was just checking in to see how our guest was doing,”

Lander assured her. “I take it you’ve already met Selena.”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, sir. I was just trying to find some clothes for her. She wanted

to meet you, to thank you for rescuing her last night, but we realized we needed to find
her something to wear first.”

As if suddenly become aware her state of undress, he swallowed hard, glanced

away and turned so that his back was facing her.

“Sorry about that. I was so concerned about your health I guess I didn’t notice your,

uh, lack of clothes,” he explained awkwardly, keeping his eyes averted. “I need to go
anyway. I have an urgent concern that needs to be addressed right away. Why don’t we
discuss your situation over lunch in a couple of hours?”

Lunch?

17

Eden Robins

She had left everything at Todd’s place last night. Her purse, her clothes, her

makeup—everything. She needed to retrieve them. But going back to his cabin was not
something she was in a hurry to do. At least not alone.

Maybe she could get Lander to go back with her? She wasn’t positive but she didn’t

think Todd would act up in front of someone else. Damaging his reputation was of
utmost concern to him. He wouldn’t want to threaten that.

At least she didn’t think so.
Selena hated the thought of involving anyone in the situation. She was ashamed of

the whole affair. But she had to get her things back. And once she had recovered her
belongings maybe Lander would be able to just drop her off at the bus stop in town so
she could get home and contact the police.

Despite her shame over what had happened, she was going to file charges. Of that

she had no doubt. Todd would not get away with his unacceptable and savage behavior
without facing the consequences.

Now, if only Lander would help her out.
She hoped it wasn’t too much to ask.
“As much as I’d like to have lunch with you, Mr. Paletsos, I need to get home.”
Lander kept his back to her as he spoke. “Home? And where would that be?”
“I live down in the Valley. In Scottsdale.”
“I see. Well, as much as I’d like to help you do that, it isn’t possible.”
Selena’s heart sped up. Wasn’t possible? What did he mean by that?
“Listen, I understand. I know Christmas is only a couple of days away and Yarnell

is a long drive from Scottsdale. Maybe I could just call a cab—”

“Christmas isn’t the issue, Miss Alvarez. And no cabs come up this way. So that

isn’t an option.”

“Okay. Well then, how am I supposed to get home?”
“I will be glad to take you home, Selena, but at the moment that’s not possible

because the roads are all closed,” Lander explained. “And road advisories are in place.
No one, and I mean no one, should be driving in that weather.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Well, can I at least use your phone?”
“The phones are down.”
“What about your cell phone?” she asked, desperation edging into her voice.
“I don’t have one with me.”
Didn’t have one? Who didn’t carry a cell phone these days? “Uh, I see,” she replied,

not really seeing.

Selena didn’t know what else to say. She was at a loss. If she couldn’t get her

belongings back from Todd, what would she do in the meantime? At least she had the
comfort of knowing that if she couldn’t go anywhere Todd probably couldn’t either.

18

Lander’s Moon

“Well, I guess that means I have to stay here for the moment,” she said in an

offhand manner she didn’t feel. For some reason the thought of being trapped under the
same roof as Lander Paletsos gave her a sense of danger. As if she needed to be on
guard in case he tried to, well in case he—

In case he tried to do what?
As her eyes lifted and got caught up in Lander’s, she knew exactly what. There was

a heat running between them that was scorching and undeniable.

Frowning with brows furrowed and lips pressed tightly together, his gaze lowered,

sliding over her with an intensity that left her flushed and breathless. Each place he
skimmed burned as he slowly made his way down and back up her body. When his
stare finally returned to hers she couldn’t prevent a small gasp from escaping. His eyes
had changed. Though still golden-green, they now reflected the surrounding light,
glowing with one undeniable need.

Hunger.
And it was not for food. That much was obvious.
He was hungry for her.
Selena’s reaction was immediate. Shivers of awareness ran through her and the

urge to run was overwhelmingly strong. Sheer will and Maggie’s presence in the room
kept her rooted to the spot. Instinctively, at a very primal level, Selena knew that not
only did Lander want her, but also that if Maggie wasn’t there he would have acted on
that feeling then and there.

“You need to get dressed. We’ll talk later,” Lander growled low and deep, shooting

one last scorching glance her way before stalking out of the room.

The minute the door slammed behind him Selena struggled to gain her equilibrium

and catch her breath. What had just happened? The heat and attraction between them
before he had walked out had been so thick she could have cut it with a knife.

Never, never had a man affected her like Lander just had.
“Are you all right, dear?” Maggie asked, concern knitting her brow as she hurried

to Selena’s side.

Was she all right?
On the one hand, Selena felt a certain amount of pleasure knowing how much she

affected Lander but on the other she was a little intimidated by just how intense his
desire seemed to be. It was almost as if he were ready to eat her alive! And the strangest
part was that she hadn’t wanted to resist. His gaze had left her scared and shaky but
also excited and not a little hot.

How weird was that?
Considering she had just fled a very intense situation, she should be gun-shy, or at

least a little bit hesitant about men at this point. Yet something about Lander, while
sending her libido skyrocketing, also calmed and steadied her.

“Miss?”

19

Eden Robins

The worry in Maggie’s voice brought her back to the here and now.
“Yes. I’m fine, Maggie. I’m just not that comfortable with the thought of being

trapped here in a snowstorm.”

“I understand,” Maggie said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “But it’s

only temporary. And after the snow clears you can be on your way. In the meantime,
why don’t I turn on the shower for you so you can get freshened up and put some clean
clothes on?”

“A shower sounds great, Maggie,” Selena answered with a relieved smile. A nice

hot shower would be a perfect, relaxing diversion.

“When you’re finished, and please take your time, your clothes will be laid out on

your bed. I found one of the staff close to your size and she was willing to lend you
some of her things,” Maggie explained after turning the shower on and giving Selena a
washcloth and towel as well as some toiletries. “Lunch will be served in about two
hours.”

“Sounds wonderful, Maggie. Thank you, and please tell the woman who lent me

her clothes that I really appreciate it.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Maggie called over her shoulder as she headed toward the

bedroom door. “See you in a bit.”

Selena wasted no time getting into the steaming shower. Twenty minutes later, after

taking probably the longest shower she had ever had, she was dried off and ready to
get dressed. Looking over the toiletries Maggie had provided, she searched for some
makeup. She didn’t wear a whole lot, a touch of mascara was all she usually needed.
Smiling, she saw that Maggie had included a small tube of it.

A little moisturizer, mascara and lip balm and she would be ready to go.

Unfortunately her overlong shower had seriously steamed up the mirror. Wiping it
with the towel would only help a little. Deciding to dress first, she walked out of the
bathroom and once again tried to ignore the pain in her side. Looking down, she gasped
at seeing just how much damage Todd’s kicks had done to her body. Her left side
sported two large, purplish bruises starting just under her armpit and ending down by
her waist.

His savage kicks had hit the mark.
Carefully pulling her clothes on, she tried not to ponder the fact that a man she had

liked, and who she thought had cared about her, was capable of hurting her in this way.
Although she knew she hadn’t been in love with him yet, they hadn’t been together
long enough for that, his actions still made her heart ache.

She tried to shrug it off as part of the past, as yet another mistake she would put

behind her as she moved forward. But the tears came unbidden, rolling down her
cheeks and seeping hot and salty into her mouth. The taste of them made it worse. She
was crying over an idiot like Todd. A violent, selfish man she should never had gotten
involved with.

20

Lander’s Moon

Hindsight was definitely twenty-twenty. Putting it all together, all his aggressive

behavior toward others, his demanding nature, the impatience he showed her and the
anger that had so easily built up in him, it was a wonder she hadn’t picked up on it
earlier. And of course there were the little details about his old girlfriends. Some had
been groupies, some even still hung around. Yet the few that did always seemed to
avoid Todd. And Todd had given her an unconditional warning that if he ever caught
Selena talking to any of them he would never forgive her. He told her they had no
business talking with her either, as they were the past and she, Selena, was the future.

Though curious as to why he was so adamant about it, she’d let it go, just figuring,

or rather hoping, that she was different from the others, that she was special in his eyes
and that’s why Todd didn’t want her talking with them. She realized now how stupid
she had been. He had forbidden it, more than likely, because he had hit them too and
hadn’t wanted them to tell her.

Anger flamed bright and strong in Selena. It outraged her to think that Todd’s next

girlfriend—and Selena was sure with his charm, good looks and rising fame he would
have no trouble finding someone new—would suffer the same humiliating, painful fate
she had, and more than likely his past girlfriends had. Well, she wasn’t about to be
quiet and docile, keeping this on the hush. As soon as she returned home to the Valley
she would contact his old girlfriends she knew, as well as report him to the police and
talk to journalists and women’s support groups. She would spread the word about
exactly what Todd had done and what kind of monster he really was.

After she finished dressing she headed back into the bathroom. Using a towel, she

carefully wiped most of the remaining steam from the mirror. As her face became more
and more visible, Selena got a good look for the very first time. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
No wonder Maggie had seemed so uncomfortable around her. Swollen and discolored,
her face was a mess.

Thanks to Todd.
In that moment, as she looked in the mirror and saw all the damage the man had

done to her, she vowed to make sure he never did this to another woman.

Never again.

* * * * *

Never again.
Lander made that vow to himself as he left Selena and Maggie.
One way or another he would make sure the creep who did that to Selena would

never hurt her or any other woman again. Violence against women was something he
could never stomach or tolerate. Maybe it was that part of him that could be so violent.
That beast that so often seemed out of control. But never, not once during his entire
existence, had he hit a woman.

And he never would.

21

Eden Robins

Last night, Selena’s delicate beauty had calmed him and melted the heart of a beast.

The injuries that swelled and discolored her features this morning sent anger racing
through him and made his beast want to roar its rage to the world.

Trying to calm down and concentrate on the paperwork he needed to finish before

lunch had been difficult. Despite Selena’s injuries, seeing her this morning with the
sheet wrapped around her lithe form had sent desire burning through him. The
knowledge that only a thin layer of cloth separated her luscious body from his had been
an almost irresistible temptation. His beast had paced urgent and restless inside,
demanding he mate with her.

The lion had almost won out. As it had pushed at him, struggling for the upper

hand, his control had slipped and threatened to split at the seams. The only thing that
had stopped him from taking Selena then and there had been first and foremost the
atrocity of her injuries and the thought of someone doing that to her, and second, the
presence of Maggie in the room. Lander had left them as quickly as possible because if
he hadn’t he wasn’t sure what would have happened.

But now, as he walked down the hallway to the dining room, knowing he was

going to see Selena’s face, bruised and battered, he couldn’t help but wonder at the
injustice in the world. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know it existed. He knew full well just
how unfair life could be. His very existence was a prime example of it. An example of
how people could live their life without thinking about the ramification of their actions
on those around them.

His father was just such a person. Though King of the Greek Gods, Zeus was most

definitely not perfect. He seemed to have a particularly bad habit of not keeping his
pants on when he should, and siring children along his irresponsible path in the
process. Creating and scattering them along the way as if the consequences of his
actions or the lives involved mattered little to him.

Lander’s mother had been a victim of his father’s philandering ways, although

she’d sworn with everything she was that she loved Zeus with all her heart and thought
he had loved her too. But it turned out that even the Greek moon goddess Selene could
be fooled. And in this case her intuition and judgment had been incredibly wrong.
Almost to the point of her-only-son’s-death kind of wrong.

If Zeus’ wife Hera had gotten her way, Lander would be dead right now instead of

living his life as an immortal shapeshifting demigod. And if his half-brother Heracles
hadn’t decided to use his heart and brain instead of his brawn Lander’s death would
have been certain. And lastly, if Clotho, spinner of the thread of life, one of the three
fates and best friends forever with his mother Selene hadn’t taken pity on him his
destiny would have been much, much different.

So many ifs had allowed his life to continue, yet one he thought about more than

others. If it had all been worth it. Did his existence on this earth have meaning and
purpose? As time passed and his life continued endlessly, he pondered the
meaningfulness of it all. Immortality was one thing, but it was not intrinsically linked to
being glad one was alive or having meaning in one’s life.

22

Lander’s Moon

That was a completely different matter.
Philosophy flew out of his mind the minute he walked through the open French

doors leading into the dining room and saw Selena. Though midday, the gray sky and
endless white falling snow would have left the room dim if someone hadn’t lit candles
and placed them around. Besides providing much needed light, they added an intimate
and romantic element to a room Lander rarely used, as did the presence of Selena,
standing with her back facing him as she stared out the window.

The dress she wore gently outlined the curves of her body in flowing layers of a

soft, sheer, printed material consisting of yellows, pale pinks and light greens. The mid-
calf hem of the dress spread into delicate ruffles of lightly waving curves, creating the
ethereal impression of a frothy weightlessness. The style reminded him of bygone days
when women weren’t afraid of being too soft or feminine.

The sight of her there, with the muted colors of her dress contrasting against the

glaring white outside the window, made him want to call her to him. Made him want to
pull her away from the cold and ice and persuade her to come share the warmth of their
intimate candlelit surroundings with him.

It made him want to—
Hell, he just wanted her.
As if sensing his presence, without a word Selena slowly glanced over her shoulder,

momentarily meeting his gaze before returning her stare back outside.

“Kind of gloomy isn’t it?” she asked.
She shivered then. He could see the action even from across the room. Crossing her

arms over her chest, she rubbed them with the palms of her hands. Up and down again
and again, as if not only trying to warm herself up but also to get her blood circulating
at full speed as she waited for his reply.

Lander shrugged, walking to where she stood and glancing out the window.
“One could see it that way. But I like the snow. I like the cool, fresh and brisk air I

breathe when I’m outside on a cold day. I like the crunch of snow under my feet as I
walk, the feel of those first few flakes as they land cool yet stinging on my face and the
way my body warms up once I come inside and sit in front of the fireplace,” he
explained, walking over to the lit fireplace and holding his hands palmside out up to
the heat. “I also prefer the snow to the hot desert summer, but would I desire the sun to
shine today as well? Definitely. Like most Arizonans, I’m spoiled, taking our many
sunny days for granted and mourning its absence after only a day or so.”

Selena turned to face him. “Wow.”
“Wow?” he asked, confused.
She nodded her head.
“Yes, wow. That was some explanation,” she said before giving him a quick once-

over that left him feeling like an insect getting slowly, carefully and thoroughly
dissected. “Don’t tell me. You’re a writer, right?”

23

Eden Robins

“Wow,” he replied raising one eyebrow.
“Wow?” she replied in the same confused tone he had.
“Yes, wow. That was some guess,” he repeated before giving her the same once-

over she had given him. “Don’t tell me. You’re psychic, right?”

She smiled then.
Lander savored it. Despite the bruises and abrasions her smile lit up her whole face.

It brought sunshine to his cloudy day. A guy could lose himself in a smile like that for a
very long time.

He couldn’t stop his own lips from curling upward. For some reason her presence

alone made him feel good. And her smile made him want to smile.

“Maybe just a little,” Selena quipped. “But I sure wish I were more psychic. Because

then I’d know everything there is to know about you, Mr. Paletsos. And I wouldn’t
have to wonder about the mystery of your hidden castle in the woods or what you were
doing walking through the forest on someone else’s land so late last night.”

“I take it back,” he said, still smiling. “You’re not a psychic. You’re a detective or

maybe a reporter, right?”

Selena chuckled. It was music to his ears. The melodically happy sound of it filled

him with light and turned him on. What was it about this woman? Why was she having
such an effect on him? It was unusual. He had met many women during his very long
and well experienced life yet none had intrigued and moved him like Selena had since
the first moment he met her.

“Definitely not, Mr. Paletsos. I have my pharmacy degree and I practice integrated

medicine. I’m more of a healer, if you will.”

“An admirable job. I commend you. But please, would you do one favor for me?”

he asked.

“Of course,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. “On one condition.”
“A condition?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing really,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “Just answer my

question.”

“Your question?” Lander asked. He was beginning to feel like an idiot, and wasn’t

quite sure why. Yet his need to repeat each question she asked was becoming
embarrassing.

Selena rolled her eyes.
“Yes, you know. The one about you being a writer. Are you one or aren’t you?”
“Ah, that question,” he said, relieved to once again know where the conversation

was going. How did the woman manage to confuse him and steer his thoughts in every

24

Lander’s Moon

direction except the one they needed to go in? “I absolutely am a writer. And since you
aren’t really a psychic, that was a very good guess on your part.”

Her eyes lit with amusement and she gave him a small, mocking bow.
“Thank you, folks. I’ll be here all night.”
He chuckled low, the feel of it rumbling through his chest. It felt good. When was

the last time he’d felt genuine amusement? He figured if he couldn’t remember it had
probably been a long time. Too long.

“Now your turn,” he reminded Selena.
“My turn?”
He couldn’t miss the chance to roll his own eyes. Turnabout was fair play after all,

wasn’t it?

“Yes, I need a favor from you, which you agreed to if I answered your question.”
“Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “What did you need, Mr.

Paletsos?”

Lander stifled a groan. What did he need? Right then and there he needed Selena

naked and under him, if he had his way about it. But of course that was totally out of
the question.

For now.
Clearing his throat loudly, hoping his state of arousal would still allow him to talk

clearly, he answered Selena’s question.

“Please do me a favor and call me Lander. It really isn’t necessary for us to be this

formal. And I hope you’ll be okay with me calling you Selena.”

Selena smiled shyly, a light flush of pink darkening her cheeks.
No. The woman couldn’t be—it wasn’t possible, was it? Was she actually blushing?

Lander couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a woman
blush.

Damn. That was a hell of a turn-on. Now his already painfully tight pants became

even more strained. He was sure there was a good chance he was cutting off the
circulation of blood to half his body, but it couldn’t be helped. The woman just seemed
to have this natural effect on him.

How the hell was he going to survive it?

25

Eden Robins

Chapter Three

How was she going to survive it?
Selena wasn’t sure.
Lander was driving her crazy just standing there looking incredibly handsome and

very mischievous. What was it about this guy? All he had to do was smile and joke with
her and she started blushing. Add that to the butterflies in her stomach and her legs
turning to wet noodles and she knew one thing for sure.

She was in big trouble.
The weird part about it was that Lander didn’t seem the bad-boy-in-trouble type

she usually went for. So why were her caretaker senses shouting loud and clear? Her
instincts were telling her that she had to help him. But with what?

From the look of his place the guy was obviously a well-paid writer. The ornate and

elaborate Christmas decorations placed extensively around his house must have cost a
fortune. And although a little mysterious, he seemed to be a pretty well-balanced
person. How could he need her help?

As soon as she asked herself that question she wanted to smack her forehead in

frustration. Duh! How could he need her help? She might as well ask herself if she ever
thought Todd would physically attack her. And she had known Todd much longer. She
didn’t even know this guy and she was already trying to assure herself he was okay.

She definitely had issues.
Healing was something she was good at. She could sense what a body needed even

before she did a complete diagnostic, and her medical advice and follow-up treatments
were almost one hundred percent successful the first time around. But when it came to
relationships, well, she needed to face it once and for all—she may be great at healing
but she was absolutely horrible at finding nice, decent and mentally healthy men. It was
like her man detector was perpetually broken and working in reverse. Though she
consciously wanted independent, healthy and emotionally available men, she ended up
with needy, unhealthy and mentally unbalanced fellows.

Yet she kept coming back for more.
Well, enough was enough. Yes, Lander was attractive, yes he was funny,

mischievous, intelligent and successful. But was he healthy? Was he able to stand on his
own two feet without a crutch? She realized now that Todd’s crutch had been his need
to feel more powerful than others through verbal and physical subjugation.

Did Lander have a crutch? If so, what was it? How much did it affect his life, how

much would it affect him in a relationship? What consequence would that have on her?

26

Lander’s Moon

Okay, maybe she was putting the cart before the horse here, rushing things a bit,

but Selena needed to draw a line in the sand. She needed to make sure she no longer got
involved with men who seemed like they needed rescuing. No matter how much she
wanted to help them, save them or solve their problems, she needed to stop and she
needed to stop now.

She was done.
Selena would accept Lander’s hospitality until the weather subsided and the roads

were clear, and she would ask him to help her get her things back, but beyond that she
needed to walk away without looking back. She was a healer, not a guardian angel, and
she needed to understand and accept that once and for all.

Ignoring the pull she felt between them she adopted a casual air, asking the first

question that came to mind.

“So what do you write, and do you write under your own name?”
“I write historical suspense novels. But I don’t use my own name. I have a pen

name. My privacy and anonymity are very important to me. I write under the name
Spencer Bradshaw.”

Selena’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to close it and

resume her casual air but it was impossible. She was in shock.

When she noticed Lander looking at her curiously, as if she had grown two heads,

she somehow managed to regain her senses and speak in a coherent manner. Well,
somewhat coherent.

“You’re Spencer Bradshaw? The internationally best-selling, they just made a movie out

of one of your books, kind of a recluse and you never do interviews Spencer Bradshaw?”

Lander raised an eyebrow at her description but then cracked a crooked smile and

gave her a quick nod. “Yeah, that would be me.”

Selena couldn’t believe it. Though not a literary expert, she was very aware of the

fact that the guy wrote great books. He penned passionate, turbulent and
heartwrenching stories involving multidimensional characters so real they could almost
walk off the page. And he told his tales in a way that made the reader believe he had
actually been there in that time, in that moment. She owned just about every book this
guy had written.

“O-kaaaay,” she said, muttering softly to herself. “Well that just puts a new spin on

all of this, doesn’t it?”

Lander must have heard her because all the humor from a moment ago left his face,

replaced by a sober expression.

“Not really,” he said dryly. “That’s just what I do, Selena, not who I am. Please

don’t make the mistake of confusing the two. That would be like me assuming that you
allowed yourself to become a victim of physical abuse because you don’t think you’re
worth more than that. Is that true?”

That caught her attention.

27

Eden Robins

Raising her chin and squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes stare for stare.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The reality of the situation couldn’t be farther from that

theory,” she said, unable to keep the outrage out of her voice.

“So why don’t you tell me what really happened, Selena? Why don’t you tell me

how you ended up flat on your back in the middle of the forest during one of the worst
blizzards we’ve had this year, with your face and body beaten and bruised?”

Now that was a good question. But there was just one problem. Did she want to

answer it? And if she did, how detailed did she really need to be?

Luckily, she got a reprieve. Maggie walked into the room with a few covered

platters. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled her senses. Stomach growling, she knew
she was ready for a good meal. Lander gave her one last meaningful look before
walking over to the table.

“Thank you for preparing lunch,” he said, smiling at Maggie before pulling out a

chair and holding it for Selena. “You’re in for a treat if my senses are right. Maggie
makes some of the best lasagna around and I think that’s what she’s made for us. Am I
right?”

Maggie smiled widely, pride evident on her face as she uncovered each dish she

had prepared. The first was a beautiful mixed salad made up of baby greens and
topped with fresh parmesan shavings. The second was a basket of warm, steaming
garlic bread and the third was a large pan of bubbling hot lasagna.

Selena’s stomach growled again.
Lander must have heard it as he seated himself across from her.
“I’m hungry too, Selena,” he said with a low chuckle that sent delightful tingles up

and down her spine.

“Now you two take your time and enjoy the meal. There’s some iced tea and water

right here for you. Please help yourself.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” Selena said enthusiastically. “It looks delicious.”
And it tasted even better. Lander played the gentleman, serving her portions of

each dish before serving himself. But after that it was every man, or woman, for
themself as they both fell silent, savoring the feast before them.

“Maggie sure can cook,” he said with a sigh. “I’m lucky to have her in my life. She

takes great care of me.”

“She is a wonderful cook,” Selena agreed before voicing the question that had been

on her mind only seconds ago. “How did you two meet?”

“I’ll be glad to answer that on one condition.”
“Another condition?”
“Yes,” he nodded with a satisfied smile. It was obvious he was enjoying this.
“What condition?” she asked, narrowing her eyes warily.
“That you answer the question I asked you before Maggie came in with lunch.”

28

Lander’s Moon

“Still remember that, huh?” Selena teased.
“Yeah, it’s a little hard to forget,” he said with a sober expression.
“Okay, well,” she started, completely serious now, “where should I start?”
“The beginning has always worked for me. Why don’t you give it a try?” Lander

encouraged her.

Exhaling the breath she didn’t know she had been holding, Selena started talking

and couldn’t seem to stop until the whole sordid tale was told. Lander listened without
saying a word. Giving her his full attention, he seemed genuinely interested in what she
had to say. Trying to ignore the shame she felt when she got to the part about Todd
hitting her, she glanced away, not looking at Lander as she explained the events that led
to him finding her unconscious in the snowstorm.

“It was so strange,” she explained, her voice cracking a little from the emotion

welling up inside her, unaware of the tears falling down her cheeks. “One minute he
was simply a man I was dating, someone I liked a lot and someone I thought cared
about me too. The next he became this horrible beast, this violent animal with
absolutely no remorse. And worst of all he acted as if he thought I deserved to be
physically hurt and that it was his job to do it.”

Unable to stand it a moment longer, she shot a wary glance across the table at

Lander. Relief flooded through her when she saw no judgment or disapproval in his
eyes. Instead she found concern, compassion and some emotion she couldn’t define.
The intensity of his gaze was almost too much. It was obvious Lander was struggling
with something but Selena didn’t know what.

In the next instant, she knew she was about to find out. Without a word he stood up

and strode around to her side of the table. The intense heat in his eyes left her
breathless. As he reached where she sat he gazed down at her, devouring her face in his
hungry stare. She gulped down any trepidation she felt and slowly rose to her feet.

* * * * *

He was a beast.
Just the type of beast Selena spoke about.
Maybe worse.
He should stay as far away from her as possible. Anything they could have between

them would end in heartbreak. Her heartbreak. Lander couldn’t give her what she
wanted. True love and happily-ever-after romance was not part of his existence. He
couldn’t give any woman that, and hadn’t been able to since the day of his birth, when
Hera sicced her best friend forever, Hecate the witch and goddess of the dark of the
moon, on him.

Hera had been angry

yet again because Zeus was making babies with someone

besides her, so she’d called on her dear friend Hecate to do her bidding and forever
curse Selene and Zeus’ son by turning him into a beast. Hecate did as her queen asked,

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Eden Robins

but the Fates stepped in—specifically Clotho, Selene’s best friend. She took pity on
Selene but could only modify Hecate’s curse. Instead of existing only in beast form
forever, he retained his human form during the day and turned into a giant lion when
the sun went down. As the moon rose, his mother Selene could watch over him.

Lander was the Nemean Lion.
The giant lion of Greek Myth.
Not truly a beast but not truly a man. Not fully a god but not fully mortal either.

Lander was somewhere in between. That hated place that was neither one nor the other,
yet. the fates had tried to help, especially his mother’s friend Clotho. In addition to
modifying his curse she also gave Lander specific strengths. His parents’ status as true
gods had given him immortality but the Fates had gifted him with impenetrable skin
and the senses and physical abilities of a lion, even in human form. Those were
attributes which had helped him survive these many, many years of his existence.

Still, when everything was stripped down to the basics, one fact remained.
He was a beast. He was an animal who could be just as vicious, savage and cruel as

Selena mentioned. And his beastlike nature sometimes ruled his actions. Like his
evening patrols, prowling over his property, leaving his mark along the borders of his
hard-won territory to warn would-be intruders away. And there had been intruders,
both man and animal, whom he had battled to keep what was his.

That animal instinct was strong.
So was the instinct to mate.
And if he didn’t get Selena away from him soon he knew that primal urge would

win out. He wanted her. He wanted to take her again and again, until her scent and his
blended into one. The lion in him didn’t care that she was bruised and scratched up or
that she was fresh out of another relationship. All it knew was her scent.

Her pheromones and his lion’s instincts told him she was a worthy mate. One who

was strong and healthy. A female he could breed with again and again. One who could
give him strong cubs who would survive in this harsh world, just as he had survived.

No!
Lander grasped Selena’s shoulders. Her eyes widened slightly in alarm.
If she only knew what he was thinking, what he really was. Then—then she would

be truly frightened.

Despite her fear, he couldn’t resist the pull between them. Watching her savor her

food with such abandon as they’d eaten had driven him crazy. She was a sensual
woman, he could tell. And if she enjoyed good lovemaking as much as she did good
food they would create the kind of sparks he had always looked for but never found in
a woman before.

Everything about her called to Lander. She irresistibly drew both the man and the

beast closer. From her pixie-like feathery hair and her large, soulful healer’s eyes, to her
lush lips and her curved, voluptuous body, she was made for him. And as he stared

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Lander’s Moon

down into the swirling pools of her beautiful brown irises he could no more resist her
than he could breathe.

His first intention was to tell her she needed to go back to her room. That she

needed to get away from him before it was too late, but as she had risen from her own
seat and her special scent enveloped him he knew the battle was lost. Trying to be as
gentle as possible, he relaxed his tight grip on her shoulders, reached one hand up and
carefully wiped the tears from her soft, flushed cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m here now. And I won’t let him or anyone

else hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” she said in a soft voice still trembling with emotion, yet also filled with

conviction. “I know I just met you yet I feel

deep inside that you live by the words you

speak, Lander. I trust you.”

Selena stared deeply into his eyes. Her easy-to-read gaze told him everything he

needed to know. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe in him. And Lander
wouldn’t let her down. He vowed to himself he would do whatever it took to deserve
her trust and faith.

But for now, for right now he needed to feel her tight against him. He needed to feel

her lips pressed against his. He needed her in his arms. Pulling her close, he bent his
head to her. She tilted her head up, exposing her neck to him, leaving herself open and
vulnerable. That act alone brought out the protector in him, something which had never
happened when he’d mated with a female in the past. Yet with Selena he knew without
a doubt that he would never hurt her, that he would always protect her from harm and
that no other male would have her but him.

That last thought shook him to the core. Possessive thoughts when it came to

women were new for him. Usually he went into a relationship already planning how he
was going to extricate himself from it with the least amount of difficulty.

But none of that mattered in that moment. Nothing was as important as Selena’s

sweet, lush lips calling to him in an unspoken language as old as time. Lowering his
head those last few inches, Lander captured her mouth with his own. He sipped at first
the top then the bottom lip, gently sucking them until each swelled inside his mouth.

Pulling away slightly, Lander adored her face with his gaze. Her lips were moist,

parted and swollen and her eyes closed. She wore an expression of ecstasy, which told
him all he needed to know. She wanted him, just as he wanted to surrender to the need
raging inside him.

Yet tenderness surged to the surface, tempering his beast’s needs. And instead of

taking Selena then and there as his body insistently demanded he first rained light
kisses along the firm line of her jaw and then worked his way up and over her flushed
cheeks, giving extra attention to her bruises. Stopping at the tip of her nose, he kissed it
before caressing her eyelids with his lips, careful not to hurt the one swollen from
injury.

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Eden Robins

Thoughts of the hurt Selena had endured at the hands of another man invaded his

mind. Giving her forehead one last kiss, he pulled back, halting his seduction. Tenderly
slipping his fingers through her hair, he held her head gently in place and pressed his
forehead to hers. Taking several deep breaths, he struggled for control.

Once he felt able to talk in a somewhat coherent manner he cleared his throat and

spoke.

“I want you Selena,” he admitted in low, gravelly voice. “I know we just met and I

know you’ve been through a horrible experience, but that doesn’t change the way I
feel.”

Gently slipping his fingers from her hair, he lifted his head and stepped back.
Selena’s eyes fluttered open but they still held the dazed heat of desire. That desire

pulled at him, tried to yank him back to her side. Lander took another step back, trying
to put more distance between them. Without a word Selena took a step toward him. He
took another step back, she took another forward.

She wasn’t making this easy for him. His control was almost at its limit. He

wouldn’t be able to stop soon if she didn’t stay away. Didn’t she know what kind of
danger she was in?

Maybe he needed to explain it to her.
“Stop, Selena,” he said, holding both hands out in front of him, palms facing her.

“Don’t come any closer. You’re confused and you don’t know what you’re doing.
You’ve been through a traumatic event and you’re not ready for this. Or for me.”

Lander’s words and actions began to clear the fog of desire from Selena’s mind but

instead of stopping her, the clarity she gained only seemed to fuel her progress.
Lander’s compassion for her, his need to protect her even from herself and the sweet
way he cared more about her than satisfying himself made him that much more
appealing. He was a sensitive man with morals, strength and integrity. Those traits
made her want him even more. Determination filled her gaze as she lifted her chin and
took yet another step in his direction. Then another and another.

Clenching his fists at his sides, Lander felt sweat break out on his forehead. She was

killing him. He tried to make his feet step back yet again but his body stubbornly
refused. His beast roared in triumph as it sensed the battle Lander’s human side was
losing.

“Selena, I’m warning you,” he said in more of a growl than words. His beast was

close at hand, ready to take control at any moment. As soon as it found a crack in
Lander’s hard-won armor it wouldn’t waste any time taking what it wanted. “I don’t
know how much longer I can hold out, Selena. I want you with everything that I am. I
want you under me, on your back, legs spread wide while I plunge into your sweet,
warm softness again and again. And then I want you kneeling on hands and knees in
front of me while I take you like the animal I am, without tenderness, without
preliminaries, just fucking. That’s it. Fucking you until I’ve had my fill and we’re both
so exhausted we can’t move.”

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Lander’s Moon

Her eyes widened a little and she hesitated before taking another step forward.

Good, maybe he was getting through to her. Maybe he was scaring her.

“I’m just the kind of beast you don’t want. The kind you talked about earlier,”

Lander told her. “The kind that will take what it wants without remorse or gentleness.
The kind that will devour you, spit you out and walk away without looking back.”

Selena smiled then. And it wasn’t the smile of an innocent, naïve girl. It was the

seductive smile of a full-grown woman who has lived and loved. And her eyes held
deep well of wisdom. And ageless knowing that she could only have gained through
her heritage as a healer.

“Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want you to take me and make me yours again

and again until neither of us can even stand. What then, Lander?”

Her words fueled the already out of control fire that raged inside of him.
He snapped.
Stalking forward, his control shattering into a million sharp clawing pieces of

hunger and lust, cutting him again and again, demanding its due, Lander could only
respond with a low, choking growl. The beast was near and heard every word. And
when it was this close, it was hard to deny. It roared its need to mate, and wouldn’t take
no for an answer.

Closing the distance, Lander grabbed Selena by the shoulders and crushed her to

him. His lips devoured hers, giving no quarter, demanding her response, insisting on
her surrender. The alpha he was, would have it no other way.

Her lips parted under his onslaught and he mercilessly plunged his tongue into the

moist recesses of her mouth again and again, tasting all of her and making sure she
tasted his desire and his unquenchable hunger for her.

But instead of fear or hesitation, his actions only brought her closer. Wrapping her

arms around his neck, Selena pulled him to her and leaned her sweet curves against
him in a way that told Lander just how much she wanted him. Groaning, he grasped
her waist and hauled her hips hard against his rock-hard cock. Sliding his hands lower,
he cupped then lifted her bottom so that she was at the perfect angle to feel all of him.

She gasped against his mouth and the male in him reveled in her response.
“Ahem, er, excuse me, sir. I, um, don’t mean to interrupt, but I was just checking to

see if you were ready for desert?” Maggie asked, her voice breaking the seductive spell
enveloping them.

Lander’s world came crashing back to the present.
What the hell was he doing?
Dropping his hands to his side, he untangled Selena’s arms from his neck and

quickly took one then another step back until there was some room between them. It
didn’t help much because Lander could still feel Selena’s siren call from where he stood.
And if the heat that smoldered in her dark brown eyes was any indication she could

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also feel how strong the desire between them was. It was if they were connected with a
taut wire, humming and vibrating with a mutual need they were both very aware of.

Lander tore his gaze from Selena and tried to focus on Maggie and the words she

spoke. The lion in him roared its outrage at the interruption while the man struggled for
control. After a moment his confusion cleared somewhat and the words coming from
Maggie’s mouth began to make sense.

“Dessert?”
“Yes sir, I made gelato. I thought it would be a nice light treat after that heavy

meal.”

“Gelato?”
Lander groaned. He was doing it again. First with Selena and now with Maggie. He

sounded like an idiot, repeating everything his housekeeper said but his brain just
didn’t want to focus.

Maggie stared at him queerly, as if he was a little slow. “Yes, you know, ge-la-to?

Italian ice cream?”

“Of course I know what gelato is!” he snapped.
Both she and Selena gave him startled looks.
“Uh, sorry about that,” he said with a grimace. “And no thanks on the gelato,

Maggie. I just remembered I have an urgent matter to finish up before the end of the
day.”

Turning to Selena, he gave her a quick nod. “Please feel free to stay and enjoy

dessert, Selena.”

Before any of them could say another word, Lander hightailed it from the room. He

needed to put some major space between him and Selena so he could think straight. She
was dangerous to his sanity. Lethal to the discipline he had always tried to maintain
through his half life as a beast and a man.

His efforts had sometimes been rewarding and other times punishing. Now was the

latter. He wanted nothing more than to storm back into that dining room, let the lion
free and take Selena as his mate.

But he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
It just wasn’t his way. The beast in him would not reign free. The man he was had

to always be the one in control, the one who judged wrong and right, the one who
controlled his fate.

That was what Clotho, had told him when he grew older and his needs and urges

as a cub grew to those of an adult lion.

“I have given you a unique choice, Lander,” she had explained one night when she

was visiting his mother’s home. “It’s one Hera would have denied you completely had
she had her way. You have the freedom to choose how you live your life. You may live
it based only on the instincts of the lion you become each night, you may live it

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completely as a man, ignoring the animal instincts and senses you possess, or you may
wisely take from both, living your life within two worlds. Just remember one thing, lion
man.”

“What would you have me remember?” Lander had asked, respecting the wisdom

of this Fate, who spun the thread of life for all who lived.

“Remember that if you choose to learn and live as a man with the help of your

beast, your heightened animal senses and instincts in turn can also have heightened
reactions to situations. You must be careful not to allow the lion in you to rage and run
rampant or you will be sorry later. You must never forget that the man must control the
beast, not the other way around.”

“How will I know when and how to do this?” Lander had asked.
At sixteen years of age there had been a lot he had not known or understood. His

mother had helped him learn to straddle both worlds but with his coming of age the
new feelings and urges he experienced had been confusing and frightening.

“It’s not permitted that I tell you more than that. The rest is Fate, unknown to any

man until it happens. However, keep my words in mind, only son of my best friend.
Remember them always and they will help you get on in this life.”

Looking back now Lander understood the Fate’s words had made much sense.

Though she couldn’t tell him his future she had tried to prepare him for the dichotomy
of his life. It had been a valuable lesson he hadn’t heeded as he should. He’d wished he
had listened more, understood more and applied the Fate’s words to his life. But he was
young and headstrong, determined to forge his own future and conquer the world his
own way.

He knew better now. Life was a lesson well learned. Now he knew how important

her words really were. Now he truly understood how necessary keeping the lion under
control really was. Lander felt he had at least accomplished that.

Until Selena.
Her presence alone threatened to shatter his self-discipline into a million pieces.
And that he could never—and would never allow.

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Eden Robins

Chapter Four

The man was dangerous.
He managed to turn her into, well, some kind of wild woman.
She was glad for the sweet gelato in her mouth, cooling her hot, flushed cheeks. Just

the memory of the way she practically threw herself at Lander was embarrassing. He
must think she had the morals of an alley cat. Especially since they’d just met. And
more so because she was fresh out of another relationship.

Not that it had been much of a relationship. Todd and she had only been dating for

a few months, and they hadn’t spent time together more than three or four times a week
due to his band’s practice and performance schedule. Looking back now she realized
that the only reason it was a relationship was because she was the one trying to make it
one. If she hadn’t insisted after the first month that they date exclusively, and Todd
reluctantly agreed, they may have still been only dating. If she hadn’t been the one
making plans to do things together other than hang out at his house with the rest of the
band or go to the occasional promotion opportunity or band party would he have?
Looking back now, she couldn’t recall him ever making any suggestions or plans. She’d
always been the one to do that. He would usually just call her and ask her to come over
to his house or invite himself over to hers.

And that always led to the same thing.
Selena had wanted more from Todd than just that. But truthfully, looking back over

their time together, could she say the same for him? Had he wanted someone besides a
bedmate, maid and groupie? As much as she hated to admit it she really didn’t think so.

She had been a fool.
Again.
She had tried to take care of Samuel, the struggling artist. Then there had been

David, the perpetually sick, down-on-his-luck pro tennis player. Oh and she mustn’t
forget Charles, the spoiled rich boy who had lost his family’s fortune and had been
trying to gain it back. All needy men who had seemed to call out to her for help and
support. And she had tried, each and every time she had tried to make it all better, tried
to be all they needed, often at the expense of ignoring what she needed to be for herself.

Why couldn’t she get over this tendency to take care of needy men and ignore her

own wants and needs? It had happened time and time again. And in the end, when the
dust settled and she was left alone and sad, she always wondered the same thing—why
hadn’t she been enough for them?

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Lander’s Moon

In Todd’s case she was glad it had been she who had left, not the other way around.

Still, that had been more of a survival instinct than anything else. She knew if she had
stayed he might have killed her.

So where did that leave her now? In the house of yet another man. A man to whom

she felt a strong attraction. A man who brought out intense feelings and reactions in
her. And a man whose very nature invited her to forget herself and act crazy. It wasn’t a
good thing.

Was it?
Before she could answer her own questions Maggie entered the room with a bright

smile on her face.

“It looks like you’re done with your gelato. How’d you like it?”
Surprised, Selena looked down at her empty bowl and realized she had been so lost

in thought she hadn’t noticed finishing every last drop of the delicious dessert. It had
been a double chocolate fudge flavor, and since she and chocolate had a “special
relationship” she hadn’t been able to resist when Maggie had offered it to her.

“It was delicious, as was the whole meal. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, dear.”
Selena stood up, not sure what to do with herself.
Maggie immediately sensed her dilemma. “I have some baking to do, dear. Making

holiday cakes and cookies is a holiday tradition I treasure during Christmastime, but
take this map of the house and please feel free to wander about,” the housekeeper
offered. “It’s a large home with lots to explore, including a wonderful library.”

“Library?” Selena immediately perked up. With her stomach full and the

snowstorm outside it would be a perfect day to read. She would love to lose herself in a
great story. “That sounds fantastic. Where is it?”

Looking down at the house map, Selena saw that it was designed for easy

deciphering.

Maggie pointed at two different rooms.
“The first floor library is here. It’s the largest in the house. But the second floor

library also has wonderful books to read. You’re more than welcome to explore both, as
well as the first and second floors. By the way, your room is on the second floor. There’s
even an elevator to go up on if you’re feeling too sore to walk the stairs. Only one word
of caution. The third floor is restricted. That’s where Lander works and sleeps, and he
doesn’t like to be disturbed unless he invites you there.”

Selena smiled and nodded her head. “No problem. I understand.”
A whole floor to himself? When Lander said he enjoyed his privacy he wasn’t

kidding.

“I’d invite you to take the elevator up to the roof where the indoor pool and atrium

are but I know it would be too cold at the moment. Maybe once the weather calms
down you can take a peek at it. It really is something.”

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Eden Robins

“I’d like that,” Selena assured her. “But in the meantime a room full of books is

most appealing to me.”

“Well, enjoy yourself, dear. I’ll come find you around five o’clock for dinner.

Lander likes to eat before the sun goes down and this time of year it goes down fairly
early. If you need me before then just head to the kitchen. You’ll almost always find me
or a member of the staff there.”

Selena easily found the first floor library after touring around inspecting all the

beautiful decorations lining the hallway walls on the way there. Holly accents, wreaths
of cranberries and pine, golden bells, French horns and even mistletoe were sprinkled
about the place. She was delighted and almost laughed out loud when she entered the
library and saw the beautiful blue spruce tree decorated so elaborately, with every
imaginable kind of ornament, it was a wonder the tree stood standing under all that
weight. The bright gold star sitting at the top brought a smile to her face as she
remembered helping her father place their gold star at the top of their Christmas tree
each year.

Retrieving just the right book, she settled in by the fireplace for a good read. Time

passed quickly, because the next thing she knew Maggie came looking for her to
announce dinner. As she walked down the hallway to the dining room she couldn’t
help but appreciate the beautiful statues lining each wall. Though not an expert, she
had studied some art during college and immediately recognized the work around her
as having Greek origins.

Selena stopped as one statue caught her attention. Sitting back more than the others,

more a part of the shadow than the light, she could tell it was a man yet not a man. His
form was a mixture of human and animal. The human part stood forward in a better lit
space while the animal half was set somewhat behind, in the shadow.

As she drew closer, narrowing her eyes in an effort to focus, she saw just how

magnificent the figure was. Half classically handsome man and half proud, majestic
lion. Selena swallowed hard when she realized that the statue’s form was nude,
revealing every nuance, every hard, ridged muscle of its sculpted and toned body for
the beholder to make note of.

“See anything you like?”
Lander’s voice purred from right behind her, his warm breath brushing against her

ear. Tingles ran up and down her spine, blossoming in her lower body in a way that left
her shaken. As if sensing her response he stepped closer. Almost but not quite touching
her yet close enough that Selena could feel the heat from his body as his spicy, male
scent rose between them.

She knew she should be answering him, giving some sort of response to his

question but suddenly her mind didn’t want to function. Suddenly it was if her body
had taken over and her mind had somehow lost control. She felt her nipples tighten and
moisture form between her thighs.

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Lander’s Moon

Her response surprised and alarmed her. She had never felt this way with a man

before, never had such an immediate and strong reaction as she had right then. In the
past her reactions with men had been more of the caretaker type, filling her with
nurturing, caring emotions. What she felt right now was nothing so gentle. She wanted
to arch her back and lean against Lander’s firm chest while her behind rubbed against
the hard ridge in his pants.

Selena needed to say something about the artwork. Something intelligent and

interesting, but the whisper of air tickling her ear made every thought scatter. Her body
was warm and wet, her nipples tight and erect. Lander had somehow turned on a
switch in her that had never been turned on before.

Lander inhaled deeply, his chest expanding to the point that it actually grazed her

back. And as he let his breath out he stepped closer and emitted a low growl. It rumbled
in his chest and he was near enough to her now that she felt the vibration against her.

“I see something I like, something I want. And from your scent you do too.”
Selena gasped at the husky seduction of his voice. It was deeper suddenly, and his

words more guttural. The sound made her imagine his large rough hands against her
body.

Struggling for control, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Y-you,

um, like this statue also?”

Lander’s chest rumbled again, but this time from his soft chuckle.
Even that, his light, sexy laughter, sent spears of lust through her.
“You and I both know I’m not talking about the sculpture, Selena. I want you,” he

said, emphasizing his point by lightly pressing his hardness against her. “And even if
you won’t admit it your body sending signals that you want me too.”

Lander wrapped his hands around her waist and gently pulled her back against

him. His hard chest pressed tightly against her back completed their contact. Selena legs
felt wobbly and she knew if Lander chose that moment to step back she would collapse
into a heap of desire on the floor.

“Feel me, Selena. I want you. I’m not sure why you bring out such a strong reaction

in me but you do. I want to be a gentleman with you. I want to respect the fact that you
just experienced a terrible and traumatic event. But that part of me is only the man. And
there is more to me than just a man. There is another part of me. It’s wilder, more feral
and it doesn’t care about your loss. That side of me knows one thing and one thing
only. It wants you as its mate. And it won’t let anything or anyone stop it.”

Though his words were intense, Lander’s touch remained gentle. He merely held

her close against him. It wouldn’t be difficult to break away from him. His hold was
loose. All she had to do was step forward and put space between them. Yet Selena
didn’t want to. She savored the warm, hard feel of him, the way his hardness contrasted
yet fit so perfectly against her soft curves. Leaning her head back against his shoulder,
she closed her eyes and sighed. It felt so good, so right to be like this with him. She
didn’t understand it, she couldn’t explain it. It just was.

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Lander pressed a light kiss to her cheek then buried his face in her hair and inhaled

deeply. She felt his body stiffen then, as if he were preparing to do something, steeling
himself for an action yet to come.

He was.
With one last squeeze of her waist Lander lightly pushed her forward and took a

step backward. Selena felt the cool air swirl between them and was saddened by their
loss of contact. Lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, she took a moment to get
herself together, to break out of the seductive haze she had been under.

“Are you ready to go in for dinner?”
Selena took one last calming breath before turning around to face Lander. It was

difficult but she managed to smile calmly and nod.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what gastronomical feat Maggie has performed for

us this evening.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious, as always,” he said pleasantly, motioning her ahead of

him. “After you.”

All intensity was gone from his voice and his face held no emotion other than the

slight mocking grin curving his lips upward. Despite the smile his eyes burned bright
with something she had a difficult time discerning.

Trying to ignore Lander’s stare, she walked ahead of him toward the dining room.

She stood with her back ramrod straight and her head held high yet with each step she
took she felt his eyes on her and knew without turning around that he was studying the
curves of her body and the nuances of each step that she took. The feeling was so strong
it felt as if his gaze was physically caressing her, and her body started heating up all
over again.

By the time they entered the room and sat down Selena knew her face must be

flushed bright red. Her body felt sensitive to the slightest touch. As Maggie served each
of them a small Greek salad filled with feta cheese, Kalamata olives, purple onions and
lettuce topped with a lemony, tangy dressing, she did everything to calm down,
including gulping a whole glass of water before taking her first bite.

“Are you thirsty, dear? Let me get you some more water.” Maggie clucked

sympathetically as she trudged off into the kitchen.

“No—I…” Selena started to tell the housekeeper that it didn’t matter, but Maggie

was out of the room before she could get very far.

Lander cleared his throat. She jumped at the sound, somewhat nervous to be alone

with him once more. Knowing she couldn’t postpone looking at him any longer, she
swung her gaze his way.

And waited.
After what had just happened between she and Lander back in the hallway she

wasn’t sure how to act or what to say. As her eyes connected with his, she saw them
flash with heat before he shuttered his expression and gave her a lopsided smile.

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“As you can tell, Maggie spoils me and any guests I have.”
Despite her confusion, she managed to paste a smile on her face and ask the first

thing that came to mind. “Do you entertain guests much?”

Selena hoped small talk would calm her down.
Lander shook his head.
“Not really. A writer’s life is pretty solitary, actually,” he explained. “And as I’m

sure you’ve heard I’m what you might call a recluse. I have a close-knit group of friends
who I sometimes invite to my house but it’s not very often.”

Selena relaxed somewhat as Lander spoke about himself, then asked her about her

career. “Tell me more about your life as a healer.”

“Well, I studied integrated medicine during college,” she answered, then went on

to explain when she saw the confused look on his face. “It’s a kind of East meets West
approach to medicine, if you will, but to satisfy my parents’ need for me to have a ‘real’
degree, as they put it, I also graduated with a degree in pharmacology.”

“But you obviously prefer homeopathic healing.”
“Yes, my life’s work is focused on homeopathic and spiritual healing techniques.

That area of medicine is the most rewarding to me on many levels.”

“And is your family supportive of that?”
Selena smiled as she thought about her parents and two brothers.
“My parents are pretty traditional, and as the youngest I was overly protected by

my two older brothers but eventually all of them came to realize how important this is
to me, and now back me up one hundred percent,” she explained. “How about you?
Are you and your family close?”

* * * * *

His family close?
Lander wanted to laugh at that one.
It couldn’t be further from the truth. Other than his mother, Selene, he had very

limited interaction with his family. Hell, the only reason he had met and developed any
kind of relationship with his half-brother Heracles was because the guy had been trying
to kill him. Sent on his murderous mission by King Eurystheus, ruler of Tiryns, one of
three Mycenean strongholds in the Argolid. It was Eurystheus who gave Heracles
twelve labors to accomplish on orders from Zeus’ vindictive wife Hera.

Hera had ordered Heracles to successfully accomplish these labors as penance for

killing his own family in a fit of insanity. Of course it had been Hera who had arranged
for Heracles to become deranged enough to kill his own kin in the first place but the
queen didn’t note that fact when passing down judgment on Heracles. She’d decided it
would be ironic for two bastard sons of Zeus to fight it out to the death, especially since
Heracles had had no idea that Lander, the Nemean Lion, was his half-brother. It had

41

Eden Robins

been a win-win situation for Hera because either way one bastard would die, leaving
one less for her to worry about.

Lucky for Lander, life rarely goes as planned.
Heracles had eventually found him and attacked. Lander had tried to tell him they

were brothers. It took a while for Heracles to listen, but once he did, the two brothers
swore allegiance to each other and promised to keep tabs on each other. That is, after
Lander promised him he would stop terrorizing the land and the humans inhabiting
Nemea.

The two parted ways after that, determined to move forward with their own lives

and attain the goals they had set out for themselves. And from the point on Lander
knew that he would always strive to control the beast in him, not the other way around.
The momentous meeting with his brother had left a lasting impression on him.

As he went his own way that day, he also knew that he now had someone else to

call family. Someone who he knew would be there for him if he needed him and
someone who he would help out if he needed it.

He had a brother.
“No, I wouldn’t say my family is close,” he said, finally answering Selena’s

question. “But if one of us needs the other there’s no question we’ll be there. That was a
lesson my mother Selene tried to ingrain into my and my sisters’ minds from early on in
life.”

“Your mother’s name is Selene?” Selena asked, curiosity written all over her

beautiful face. Lander still couldn’t get over how much this petite scrap of a woman
affected him. She was so expressive, so open and honest in her reactions that he easily
became fascinated by each reaction.

“Yes, Selene is an old Greek name literally meaning ‘The Moon’.”
“Really? I had no idea,” Selena said. “My parents are Latino and I don’t remember

them mentioning the moon to me.”

“Maybe it has a different meaning in your culture.”
Selena shrugged and smiled. “Maybe, but it’s kind of funny that we meet and your

mother and I have such close names, don’t you think?”

“Life is full of coincidences,” he replied noncommittally.
Was it a coincidence that he’d met Selena? Or was there more to it than that? He

wished he could read Clotho’s mind and know what more the thread spinner of life had
planned for him. But as the Fate once said, no man, no matter how great, knows his
future.

“Here’s your water, Selena,” Maggie said as she walked back into the room,

wheeling a cart up to the dining room table. On top of it was a tray holding a bottle of
wine, a pitcher of ice water, a steaming casserole and a basket covered with a cloth
napkin.

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Lander’s Moon

“And I brought some of that special Nemean wine you like so much, Lander, in

case either of you want some with your dinner. And there’s also some warm, fresh
bread and butter for you.”

Fragrant scents of yeasty bread, onions, cheese, allspice and tomato filled the air.

“Enjoy. I’ll check back with you in a bit to see if you need anything else,” Maggie said,
breezing from the room before either Selena or Lander could say a word.

“I don’t know what this is but it sure smells wonderful,” Selena said with a look of

anticipation on her face.

“I like a woman who enjoys food,” Lander said with a smile as he stood up and

opened the bottle of wine Maggie had left. “This is moussaka. It’s what you might
consider a Greek casserole. It has beef, cheese, onions, tomatoes, eggplant, wine and
various spices in it. Would you like wine?”

“Yes, thanks. I’ll try a little.”
After pouring some into her glass, Lander returned to his seat and held up his own

wineglass.

“Let’s make a toast,” he offered.
“Okay. What should we toast?” Selena smiled shyly, her eyes lighting up. That

slight curve of her lips and her wide, excited gaze rocked his world. Lander wanted to
get up, walk around the table and kiss her until her eyes turned sleepy with desire and
her lips were wet and swollen.

He held himself in check, barely.
“How about to creating Christmas memories and making new beginnings?” he

suggested, hoping she didn’t notice the husky timbre of his voice.

She didn’t seem to notice as she nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Now that is a great toast. To Christmas memories and new beginnings,” she

repeated, holding her glass up and touching it to his.

Their eyes met and held.
Electricity shot between them, going straight to Lander’s groin.
“I like you, Lander Paletsos,” Selena said softly, her eyes full of wonder and

warmth.

“I like you too, Selena Alvarez,” he replied, truly meaning every word. He did like

her. Maybe too much. Something about her touched him in a way no woman ever had
before.

Unable to take his eyes from her lips as they parted to taste the wine, Lander

couldn’t help but wish her lips were someplace else. Somewhere on his body. His cock
hardened at the thought. His pants tightened to such a point of discomfort he had to
discreetly reach down and adjust himself. The contact made him gasp but he tried to
hide it by taking one large gulp of wine.

“Well, I’m glad we both agree on that,” Selena said with amusement twinkling in

her eyes as she flashed him a sassy smile.

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Eden Robins

She took a quick sip of wine and he could tell by the way her eyes lit up that she

liked the taste of it. His gaze remained riveted as she set down her glass and picked up
her fork. ““I like the wine. But I’m dying to try the food!”

Taking a mouthful and slowly chewing, Selena closed her eyes and sighed.
“Mmmm. This is soooo good!” she said, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. “I

love the combination of spices. It’s different from anything I’ve ever had before. Really
delicious. And the full-bodied wine sets the stage for it so perfectly. All I can say is,
wow.”

Lander tried to concentrate on his food instead of Selena. But as she continued to

daintily yet eagerly eat her meal it was nearly impossible. Though he took bite after bite
of moussaka, the spices and flavor were lost on him. Selena kept his undivided
attention. The significance of her obvious enjoyment of the meal wasn’t lost on him. He
wondered yet again, as she relished each bite, if she was this passionate about
everything. If so, making love to her would be incredible.

His body was going to go up in flames.
He had to get out—now, or he might do something he would regret later. The beast

was too close and his time of transformation too near. Lander was struggling for control
and it wasn’t going well. He could not and would not submit Selena to that. Especially
in light of what had just happened to her.

Shooting to his feet, he knocked the chair down behind him. Heedless of Selena’s

reaction he strode to the door, eating up as much floor space as possible.

“Lander?” Selena asked, concern obvious in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
Lander stiffened at the sweet seductive sound of her voice. Stopping with his hand

on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder and captured her gaze with his.

“I need to leave now, Selena,” he growled over his shoulder, the lion already

climbing up his throat, threatening to overflow like burning vomit uncontrollably
rising. “And I’ll be busy until morning. Maggie will assist you before she retires for the
night. Good night.”

Selena didn’t respond.
Lander walked out without another word, slamming the door behind him.

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Lander’s Moon

Chapter Five

Selena spent a restless night trying to sleep. She tossed and turned, recounting

Lander’s parting words. He had been so abrupt, his demeanor changing from teasing
and seductive to curt and angry in seconds. That worried her. She so didn’t need to be
involved in a situation with another out of control male. Especially one who could
become violent.

She knew what her lesson to learn was. Stay away from bad boys. They may seem

in need of rescue, and that appealed to the healer in her, but it just wasn’t healthy for
her to keep losing her heart to guys who damaged it without remorse. And if Lander
was another one of those she would just keep her distance.

Maggie had appeared in the dining room not too long after Lander had stormed

out. Her face and demeanor had been troubled.

“I apologize about Lander, Selena,” the housekeeper said, regret written all over her

face. “He had an urgent matter that he suddenly remembered needing to attend to.”

Maggie had looked extremely uncomfortable as she spoke, wringing her hands

nervously. This seemed so out of the housekeeper’s character up to that point that
Selena began to sense there was more going on in this house than meets the eye. But it
had bothered Selena to see Maggie so upset, so she’d just given her a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Maggie. I was through with my meal anyway,” she’d

assured her, sitting back in the chair and patting her stomach. “That was so delicious I
cleaned my plate. I am completely and utterly stuffed.”

Maggie had given her a relieved smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear. How about

some dessert? I have some fresh baked Christmas sugar cookies I made just this
afternoon?”

Selena had shaken her head. “Thanks, that sounds wonderful, but I couldn’t eat

another bite. All I need now is a good book and a comfy bed and I’ll be fast asleep in no
time.”

Maggie had waited while Selena went back to the library to get her book. Walking

her to her room, she’d once again explained the basic floor plan to Selena.

“You pretty much have run of the house, other than the third floor, of course.”
Selena was too tired to do much else beside nod her head and say goodnight as

Maggie left her in her bedroom. She read for a while but when the words on the page
began to blur she knew it was time to sleep. Looking at the clock, she saw it was only
nine o’clock, yet it felt much later. Getting ready for bed she thought she’d fall asleep in
no time but soon found that not to be the case.

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Eden Robins

Unable to get comfortable in the strange bed, she eventually checked the time and

saw it was a little after midnight. Sighing with exasperation, she fluffed up her pillow a
little too hard before laying her head down once more. Finally, after what seemed like
hours, she fell asleep, only to be awoken by a noise.

The sound was deafening and unmistakable.
A lion’s roar.
It was loud.
And close.
So close that her bedroom door rattled from the vibration.
Selena threw the covers over her head and shivered underneath, fearing the beast

was near and possibly headed her way. The memory of the lion in the snow came
crashing back to her and she remembered its intense eyes and giant size.

After several minutes huddling under the blankets, she heard no other noises, so

peeked her head out and listened. She remained completely still, trying not to make a
sound, trying to discern any unusual sounds.

Nothing.
She stayed frozen like that for what must have been a good hour, straining to hear

more of the beast. Exhaustion eventually took over and she fell into a troubled sleep.

* * * * *

The moon shone full, round and bright, like a beacon of hope illuminating the beast

Lander had become. The transformation complete, he stretched within the familiar
lion’s skin. A low rumble resonated through his chest, not a growl but not a purr either.
It was more an indicator of the unrest he felt. Despite the strong, comforting presence of
his mother the moon, restlessness and agitation spiked through him this cold clear
night. The snow still fell slowly now, taking a break from the earlier torrential flurries,
but the freezing temperatures and icy world surrounding him did little to soothe the
inferno burning bright inside him.

Selena was near. He sensed her. Closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sky, he

could just catch her faint female perfume—warm, alive, caring, healing, blood…and his.
He wanted her in a way that wouldn’t be denied for long. Unable to contain the energy
about to burst out of him, Lander sprinted into the surrounding woods. Straining to
plow through the high snow, he pumped his legs as hard and as fast as his body would
allow, putting more and more distance between himself and the woman he hungered
for.

Focusing on the struggle, the challenge to keep going, to move through the high

drifts of snow and ice, he pushed himself beyond the point of human sanity, beyond the
point of human understanding. The need to run took over, the need to feel the snow
crunch beneath each step he took and the cold wind stream through his mane. He
skillfully maneuvered around trees, leapt over branches, climbed higher into the hills

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Lander’s Moon

and roared at the moon. The forest’s wildness called to him, the night air, filled with the
sounds and scents of life, drew him deeper and he left all that was human fast behind.

Peace settled over him.
But it was short-lived.
Stopping to catch his breath, lust crashed over Lander, suffocating him with its

inescapable need. He wanted Selena, he needed to be inside her, taking her again and
again until he satisfied the craving endlessly gnawing at him. Shooting to his feet,
instincts once more taking over, the lion took Lander to where he wanted to be.

The beast ruled, leading him on and on, relentlessly forward until exhaustion

almost overtook him. It was only as Lander felt his legs about to give way under him
that human consciousness returned.

And he found himself outside Selena’s bedroom door.
Frustration was a dim memory as Lander struggled to remain standing, to catch his

breath and calm his racing heart. Calmness skillfully escaped him however, the minute
he caught her sweet scent through the door. Adrenaline pumped through him and the
need clawing at him raged harder, screaming for release. His human side struggled for
control. Knowing he needed to walk away when everything he felt, everything he was
demanded he throw open the door and take Selena the way he was meant to, Lander
roared his misery and need aloud to the world.

Using his remaining strength to get away, he dragged himself up to the roof and

entered the heated atrium, searching for some sort of peace from the hungry beast
inside him. Self-control was difficult, much harder than he remembered it being for a
long, long while but the cool peaceful night and his long trek through the woods finally
took their toll. Collapsing on the atrium floor underneath the light of a million stars, the
legendary Nemean Lion finally slept.

* * * * *

The next day was Christmas Eve and Maggie brought Selena a wonderful breakfast

in bed to celebrate. She savored a decadent but delicious breakfast of strong, hot coffee
with cream, flaky biscuits topped with savory sausage and gravy, fluffy scrambled eggs
and fresh, sweet cantaloupe presented on a silver tray decorated with mistletoe.

“Maggie, thank you,” Selena said with a smile and a hug. “You make me feel so

special.”

“You are special, Selena. And the more I get to know you the more I like you,”

Maggie told her, hugging her right back. “Now you just enjoy that breakfast and then
come downstairs after you’ve showered. Lander wants to meet with you in a couple of
hours.”

“Oh,” Selena said, a flush of pleasure spreading through her at the thought of

seeing Lander. “Did he mention why?”

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Eden Robins

Maggie shook her head. “No. He just asked me to pass on the message that he’d like

the pleasure of your company later this morning.”

After breakfast Selena showered and found yet another outfit waiting on the bed

for her. If she wasn’t careful she was going to get used to this royal treatment, and then
how would she fare once she returned to her middle-class lifestyle at home?

How would she fare without Lander?
Even as her mind brought the thought to life, she knew that was the real question.

Just as Maggie was getting to like her more and more, Selena was getting to like Lander
more and more. She was getting emotionally involved with Lander, and considering
everything she had experienced in the last two days that probably wasn’t the smartest
choice in the world.

Shaking her head, she finished dressing. She didn’t want to think about that right

now. She just wanted to think about seeing Lander again. The rest she would figure out
later.

Lander surprised her by offering to give her a tour of his home and they ended up

spending much of the day together. He provided her with a fascinating history of the
house and showed her secret passageways none but the owners knew of. By the time
they reached the roof and Lander showed her the pool and atrium, Maggie announced
that lunch was ready. Despite the cold weather the housekeeper had found warm
blankets for Selena to wrap herself in and made up a picnic lunch of sweet hot
chocolate, crispy fried chicken, warm biscuits, potato salad and tangy coleslaw for she
and Lander to eat in the enclosed atrium on the roof. It had been magical and romantic
and Lander had been incredibly charming and funny, putting Selena at ease by telling
her writer’s jokes as they enjoyed each other’s company.

After they finished their meal Lander excused himself, explaining he still had some

work to finish that day, so Selena found a grand adventure story to read in the library,
all the while looking forward to seeing him later. But at dinner that night she was
disappointed to hear that Lander wouldn’t be available to dine with her.

“He is in the middle of a deadline, Selena. He’s just about ready to finish his next

book,” Maggie explained. “The publisher needs it as soon as possible, so you won’t see
him again until morning.”

Selena read the rest of the evening, trying not to think about the fact that she was

spending Christmas Eve alone, until the words in front of her started to blur. Once she
went to bed she tossed and turned again as she thought about how she and Lander had
spent the day together. It had been wonderful and unforgettable but also frightening
and confusing because this Christmas Eve, as she lay in bed, Selena knew one thing for
certain.

She was in love.
As unlikely and unexpected as it was, it was true. Despite the short time she had

spent with Lander, Selena knew deep down in her heart that she was meant to be with

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this funny, stubborn, sexy, intelligent, strong yet gentle man who had so suddenly
entered her life. And it wasn’t because he needed a caretaker or because he was a bad
boy who needed to be saved. It was simply because she liked the person he was,
enjoyed his company, wanted to spend more time getting to know him and was very
attracted to him.

All the reasons—the right reasons this time—to love a man. It had taken her part of

a lifetime to find him and she regretted she hadn’t met him earlier, before the
discovering the pain of past mistakes. But she acknowledged that she’d probably
needed to experience that pain, to learn those lessons before meeting Lander. She was
meant to meet him, she felt it down to her bones, but it couldn’t have happened until
now.

Until she was ready.
Throwing the sheets back, Selena jumped out of bed and put on the robe and

slippers Maggie had left for her.

She needed to see Lander. She needed to see him then and there. It couldn’t wait.

She couldn’t wait. She needed to know if he felt the same way about her and she
wouldn’t be able to sleep until she heard the words from him.

It was time to pull up her big girl pants and ask for what she needed. No more

worrying only about the other person’s wants and desires. No more forgetting who she
was or what her needs were. She realized now that life was too short to be a spectator.
She wanted to be a participant, giving and getting, loving and being loved, living, not
waiting for life to start. Looking back she realized how ironic it was that she had spent
her whole life trying to heal others yet had never worked on healing herself.

No more.
Throwing open her bedroom door, Selena headed straight for the elevator, got in

and pushed the third-floor button. As she reached her destination she hesitated for just
a moment. She could do this. It was time to let fear go. Squaring her shoulders and
lifting her chin proudly, she walked out. Selena was saved from checking every room
for Lander by the sound of music coming from down the hall.

As she drew closer she could just make out the song, “What I’ve Done” by Linkin

Park. Its hard rock sound and heavy bass reverberated through the closed door. Selena
could try to knock, but with the music that loud Lander wouldn’t hear it. Instead she
grasped and twisted the doorknob, striding into the room unannounced.

Then froze in her tracks.
The scene before her took her breath away. The large room would have been

unremarkable, with a desk and chair, file cabinets, computer and printer, couch set,
coffee table and TV-audio equipment telling her it was a combination office and den,
but the front wall facing her created something more. Made completely of glass, it
presented a panoramic view of all the wonder and magic of nature at night, turning the
room into a part of the forest instead of just a room.

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Snow no longer fell and the sky was dark and clear with twinkling stars dotting it

wherever she looked. The moon hung full and round, white and bright and larger than
she had ever seen it, lighting up the whole room. Tonight was the true full moon. All
the previous nights had been a build up to this. Yet unlike the night of Todd’s violent
attack the moon tonight was comforting, a beacon of warmth and encouragement
instead of a portent of something bad about to happen.

Her evaluation abruptly changed when she noticed movement out of the corner of

her eye.

Swinging around, she gasped as she came face to face with the giant lion from her

dreams. Though he stood back in the shadows, away from the windows, his intense,
expressive eyes were unmistakable, glowing with an inner light of their own. It was the
same beast that had come to her the night she left Todd’s house. Yet the gaze that held
hers wasn’t friendly. It was alive with danger and fury and something else she couldn’t
decipher. Was it fear? But that couldn’t be. Why would such a huge beast fear her? She
didn’t have time to ponder it as the lion crouched, preparing to spring at her.

She felt paralyzed with fear yet somehow made her legs work. Backing up quickly,

she slammed the door shut behind her as she made a beeline for the elevator. Luckily it
was only a few steps down the hall and the minute she punched the button the door
slid open. Just in time too, as she heard a loud cracking noise.

The beast was coming after her.
Pressing the first floor button, she prayed the doors would close quickly as the

beast crashed through the door and leapt into the hallway. It swung its gaze her way
and bounded toward her. As the elevator doors began to close Selena backed up as far
as possible. The beast had almost reached her as they shut completely and she began
her descent.

Her legs gave way and she slipped to the floor. Heart beating hard and fast, as if

about to leap out of her chest, Selena tried to calm down. The elevator reached the first
floor and the doors slid open. Jumping to her feet, she wasted no time running to the
front door. As she yanked it open, letting in the cold night air, she heard a faint roar
from inside the house.

Icy fingers of fear slid through her at the sound.
She was so out of there.
But as fear controlled her, taking her farther and farther from the house, the icy

temperatures surrounding her finally gave her pause. What was she doing? Where was
she going? Déjà vu came strong and unwelcome as she found herself once again out in
the forest in not-so-ideal temperatures. Although not snowing now the temperature
tonight was freezing, of that she had no doubt.

In fact, the wet snow had already permeated the fluffy slippers Maggie had given

her, just as the frigid wind had seeped through the soft terrycloth robe she wore. She
wouldn’t last long out here. She needed to find her way back to the house. She should
have gone in search of Maggie or Lander, or someone else to help, or even locked

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herself in a bathroom rather than braved the elements. But it was only as she swung
around in the direction she had come that she realized what a big mistake she had
actually made in leaving the sanctuary of Lander’s home. The bright moon clearly
showed the figure approaching. Dread filled her.

Todd.
“Hello, Selena,” he said with a mocking bow. “Surprised to see me?”
She didn’t know what to say. Seeing him standing there, looking casual in a warm

coat and boots, left her feeling disoriented. Her time with Lander had made her incident
with Todd fade into the background of her mind, as if it had happened long ago rather
than just a couple of days ago.

But seeing him there, less than ten feet in front of her with that cruel, smug smile on

his face brought it all back with chilling clarity.

“You could say that,” she said, narrowing her eyes warily while trying to keep

calm. “What are you doing here, Todd?”

“Looking for you, of course. I knew you had to be near the perimeter of my

property so as soon as the weather let up I started looking for you,” he explained with a
smile that never reached his eyes. “It’s amazing that you’re actually here, in one of the
first surrounding estates I searched.”

“Why were you looking for me?” she asked, raising her chin proudly. “We have

nothing left to say to one another. Especially after what you did to me.”

“That’s just it, Selena,” Todd said, shaking his head and stepping forward. “We

never finished our discussion the other night and I didn’t want to leave you with the
wrong impression.”

Selena slowly backed away, noticing the slightly glazed look in Todd’s eyes. Was he

drunk again? Or had he decided to start taking drugs again? He had promised her
when they first started dating that he was clean and had been for a while. But by the
look of him now she wondered about it.

“Isn’t it a little too late for that? And exactly what wrong impression are you talking

about?” she asked, just before stumbling on a loose branch and falling backward.

Todd didn’t miss the opportunity. Lunging forward, he grabbed her before she hit

the ground, his fingers squeezing painfully into her arms as he pulled her hard against
him.

“Yes, Selena,” he said in a calm voice that belied the crazed look in his eyes. “I

didn’t want you give you the impression that I don’t finish what I start. After all, I
wasn’t finished with you the other night. And if I don’t finish you won’t learn your
lesson. Understand now?”

She struggled then, knowing that she needed to get away, knowing that she might

not live through another one of Todd’s “lessons”. She didn’t think he would kill her.
After all, he was in the public eye too much but they were out in the middle of nowhere
and insane rage burned bright in his eyes. Anything could happen.

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And it did.
Despite her struggles Todd pushed her to her knees and easily held her there with

one hand while he raised his other hand to hit her. Selena cringed, struggling to pull
away, knowing from past experience the pain such an assault would bring. Turning her
head sideways she did the only thing that came to mind. She bit the hand Todd was
using to hold her down, hard enough to bleed.

The tactic worked.
Todd yanked his hand away and took a couple faltering steps back. She jumped to

her feet and turned to run but Todd recovered faster than she expected. In the next
second he grabbed a hold of her loose hair and yanked her back to him.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
Holding her by the hair, he swung her around to face him and once again raised his

hand. He never made contact. His grip loosened from her hair as he was suddenly
dragged backward.

The lion.
A fearsome vision, the beast held the back of Todd’s shirt by his teeth and then

swung his massive head to the side, sending Todd flying through the air. She heard a
loud grunt as Todd hit the ground but after that not a sound. Selena didn’t have time to
wonder if he were alive or dead as the lion turned back to her and stalked forward.
Selena tried to back away but it was too late.

The beast pounced.
The impact sent Selena flying back. She hit the ground hard, momentarily knocking

the breath out of her. As she struggled to breathe the beast stood over her, staring
deeply into her eyes. She didn’t move. She knew instinctively that any sudden
movements might agitate him. She met his stare with her own but the beast didn’t like
that. Maybe it was a dominant alpha thing, or maybe the beast just knew that it could
easily kill her with one swipe of its paws or one tear of its teeth. He growled low in his
throat, lowering his face to hers and snarling in a way that showed his sharp incisors.

Instead of fear, however, recognition hit her like a punch to the stomach.

Narrowing her eyes and holding his gaze, she gasped. Selena recognized those eyes.
She knew they didn’t belong to some animal without compassion, focused coldly on
survival and killing.

They were Lander’s eyes.

* * * * *

Lander tried to calm the fury that raged inside him but it was difficult.
His mate had been threatened and the urge to kill was strong. Almost

overwhelmingly so. He wanted to tear the human male apart with his teeth and revel in
his screams of agony. No one hurt his mate.

Ever.

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His mate.
He knew now that was what Selena was to him. Not just another female. Not just

someone to relieve his lust with. She was his mate. The woman he wanted to be with
always.

Mine!
His brain screamed the word loud and clear and he couldn’t keep the snarl from his

lips or the growl from rumbling deep in his chest. Selena belonged to him. To do with
as he chose. None but he would have her. She must have picked up on his thought
because as he looked down at her, her eyes widened with fear. He needed to calm her
down, and calm himself down.

Standing over her, looking into her expressive eyes and beautiful face, he slowly

willed himself into a more peaceful state. Selena was okay. She was safe now. His
breathing slowed and his need to kill faded. Fear glared bright in her stare but he also
saw something else. Recognition. Was it possible? Did she know him in this form? He
sent her a mental message, making sure his voice was soothing and soft and in no way
threatening.

Selena, calm yourself. It’s me. Lander. I know you’re frightened but I won’t hurt you. Ever.

Now try to listen to what I’m saying, okay?

Selena still looked scared but she slowly nodded.
This is a form I take at night. I have no choice and I can’t prevent it. It just happens. It’s a

curse I’ve lived with since my birth. That’s why I left you each night at sundown. I hadn’t
planned on telling you any of this, but now I have to. I feel a connection to you like I’ve felt with

no other woman in my long existence. Do you understand any of this?

Once again Selena nodded her head. But this time Lander noticed her eyes were

starting to calm, the fear fading away little by little.

“So you aren’t just a dream?” she asked aloud. “You were in lion form when you

found me?”

Yes. I picked up your scent while out patrolling my territory. It drew me closer, as did the

smell of blood from your injuries. Yet I knew even before I found you that your pheromones were

what pulled me to your side. Your essence calls to me, Selena. And that call hasn’t faded since we
met. There is something special between us, a strong, undeniable bond I’ve never felt with

anyone else.

“I feel it too,” Selena admitted. Her eyes softened with caring and darkened with

something he was all too familiar with.

She wanted him. Just as he wanted her.
Energy sparked between them. But unfortunately now was not the time to explore

that. Turning his gaze up to the moon, he wondered about its fullness, its complete
roundness tonight. He was tempted to try to summon his mother Selene and see if she
knew more about the lunar cycle tonight. As goddess of the moon she was sure to have
some insight into why something was different tonight. Something was happening but
Lander wasn’t sure what it was. Yet he could see it in the too-full moon, ready to burst

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into a million pieces, smell it in the strong magic that electrified the night air and feel it
as anticipation built inside him. He didn’t have time to dwell on it however, as the
sound of the human male groaning caught his attention.

He swung his gaze behind him, peering into the forest for signs of movement.

Assured there were none, he turned his attention back to Selena.

We need to get back to the house. The temperature is dropping fast. And the human male is

waking up. I’m assuming he is the one that hurt you?

“Yes, unfortunately,” she said.
Stepping backward, he gave Selena room to sit up and get to her feet.
He will never hurt you again.
Selena stood up, steadying herself, and once again he wondered at her strength and

beauty. She was a perfect mate for him. The only mate for him.

Shaking off those notions for the moment, he shifted his weight so that he knelt

forward on his front legs.

Climb onto my back. I’ll carry you home.
Selena only hesitated a moment before climbing up. He secretly relished the feel of

her silky thighs around him, the brush of her soft breasts on his neck and her irresistible
scent as she leaned forward to tangle her fingers through his mane for support.

“Is this okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” she asked softly, her warm breath

brushing against his ear.

Not at all. Just lean into me and hang on. That way you’ll stay seated and remain warm

with our shared body heat.

“What about Todd?” she asked in a hesitant voice. “I know I shouldn’t care about

him after what he did but I don’t feel right leaving him out here to freeze to death.”

I’m not leaving him out here.
Lander walked over to where Todd lay on the ground. Gripping the front of his

shirt with his teeth, Lander lifted the other man off the ground and then began a slow
trot through the woods. As much as he wanted to leave Todd to freeze out here, Lander
had known even before Selena spoke that she would not want that. She was a healer. It
was in her blood. Part of her heart and soul. Leaving a man out in the forest to die went
against her very nature. Still, if it were just up to him he’d like to teach the guy a lesson
he’d never forget about beatings.

In a matter of minutes he found Todd’s car parked just out of sight of the house.

Leaning forward, he knelt so Selena could slide off his back.

Find his keys and open the car door.
Selena did as he asked, carefully keeping one eye on Todd while searching through

his pockets. Pulling out his keys, she turned and opened the driver’s side door of his
SUV then stepped back while Lander lifted Todd into the car. The unconscious man
groaned as Lander nudged him into it.

Put the key in the ignition and close the door.

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Selena put the key in but didn’t close the door. Instead she leaned forward and

placed one hand on Todd’s chest and one on his head.

What are you doing, Selena?
Looking up, she gave him a look as ageless as the moon and as wise as the Fates.
“I’m doing what I was put on this earth to do, Lander,” she explained with

complete clarity and absolute conviction in her gaze. “I can’t leave Todd here unless I
know he’s going to recover soon. No matter what he’s done to me I won’t have his
blood on my hands.”

I understand.
And he did. He tried to fight back the rush of emotion he felt for this woman who

had entered his life so suddenly. Despite the way she had come in, however, he didn’t
want her to go away. He knew that now. He wanted to spend time with her, get to
know her, laugh with her.

Love her.
Lander wasn’t surprised to see Selena hold her ear to Todd’s chest and listen to his

heartbeat, open each of his eyelids and study them by the beam of the car light and
press fingers into his chest and arms as if testing for something. No, after doing all that,
the thing that really surprised and amazed him was the way she ran her hands over
Todd, hovering just above his skin but not touching him, as if she could feel his injuries.
She was, as she had told him, truly a spiritual healer. After a few minutes Selena must
have been satisfied by her examination because she stepped back from the SUV and
closed Todd’s door.

Are you ready now, healer?
Looking up in surprise at the use of that formal title, Selena didn’t deny it. Instead

she nodded her head and climbed onto his back. They quickly returned to the house.
Lander didn’t stop as Maggie opened the front door. Walking right by the housekeeper
without a word, he headed straight for the first floor library.

Nudging the door closed with his nose, he carried Selena straight to the overstuffed

couch and knelt so that she could climb down.

Maggie will be bringing something warm to drink in a moment.
Straightening, he stepped back a few feet and stared deeply into her eyes.
Take off your robe and slippers, Selena.

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Eden Robins

Chapter Six

“What?” she asked, startled by the request. “Why?”
I’m sure your robe and slippers are wet from the snow. If you take them off and wrap

yourself up in the blanket hanging over the back of the couch you’ll warm up faster.

“Oh.”
After peeling off the wet robe and slippers, she tried not to think about Lander

watching her as she wrapped herself in the soft throw blanket and tucked her toes in,
covering herself up to her chin. She felt immediately warmer. Between the blanket and
roaring flames in the fireplace she was feeling much better already.

Watching Lander pace back and forth across the room, she could tell he was restless

and agitated.

“Thank you for saving me.”
Don’t. I was the one who sent you running in the first place. I apologize for that. In this

form things are more, uh, let me see how to explain it. They’re more intense and primal,
magnified in a way that is different from anything human. I am very attracted to you, Selena.

My first reaction to seeing you in my private sanctuary was to take you then and there. And in

the animal world wooing and seduction aren’t as, uh, delicate as in human society.

Selena felt herself blushing. She was slightly flustered by his words but at the same

time thrilled he wanted her. She wanted him too. Badly. But now, with him in the form
of a lion, she just wasn’t sure how to handle it. Thankfully Maggie saved her from
responding when she walked in with a tray carrying a steaming mug and a small bowl
of mini marshmallows. The scent of chocolate wafted her way.

“Hot chocolate with marshmallows,” Selena noted as the housekeeper set the tray

on the coffee table in front of her. “That’s one of my favorite cold weather treats. Thank
you, Maggie.”

“I hope you enjoy it. And I’m glad you’re okay,” Maggie said with a brief smile

before shooting a worried look at Lander as she left, closing the door behind her.

“Maggie knows all about this.”
Lander nodded. She’s one of the few in this world who do. Including you.
“Were you born this way, or is this something that happened later in your life?” she

asked.

I’ve been this way since my birth. It’s a complicated story. Would you like to hear it while

you warm up with your hot chocolate?

“Yes,” Selena said excitedly. “But what about you? Don’t you need to warm up

too?”

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No, I’m used to the weather and my coat is thick enough to keep me warm. I’ll just stand

here by the fire and that will do the trick.

As he began his tale, Selena was amazed by what she heard. Not only did Lander

transform into a lion every night, he had also been born back during the time of the
Greek gods. She wasn’t sure how old that made him but to her it was almost as if he
were immortal. The fact that he was part god, part lion and part human was difficult for
her to process.

“But I thought the Greek gods were just myths?”
Do I look like a myth, Selena?
“Of course not. But that’s what we were taught in school,” Selena explained. “It’s

just a little hard to digest, Lander. And not only are we talking Greek Mythology here,
we’re also talking about real-life witches and spells, right?”

“Yes. Hecate’s spell was based on hate, while Clotho’s was based on love. That’s why Clotho

was able to modify the powerful witch’s spell. In the end, they say, love wins out over hate, just
as good is supposed to win against evil.

“Do you believe that, Lander?” she asked, noting that even his thoughts had a ring

of cynicism to them.

Believe what?
“That love conquers hate, just as good will always win over bad?”
I don’t know about that.
Lander walked toward her, stopping once his face was close to hers.
Do you believe it, Selena? After what Todd did to you can you say you actually believe that?
Selena smiled and nodded her head.
“Todd will get what he deserves. I’m going to make sure the right people hear

about what he’s done when I go back down to the Valley. And in this case good did win
out over bad. You won against Todd.”

I may not be as good as you think. I can be quite a beast sometimes, no pun intended.
“Can’t we all?” Selena said tenderly, emotions rushing through her, clogging up her

throat as she was suddenly overwhelmed by her feelings for Lander. Unable to stop
herself, she did what she had wanted to since the moment Lander moved closer. Sliding
her fingers into his mane, she was amazed by how soft it was. “I like you for who you
are, Lander. All of you.”

But what about this?
“What about what?”
Lander growled low in his throat.
You know what I am asking, Selena. My lion form. What about this? Doesn’t it repulse

you?

“Repulse me?” Selena asked, puzzled by the question. She ran her gaze slowly over

him. His regal feline features were majestic and strong. His beautiful green-golden eyes

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were expressive and intense. And his full mane, she knew firsthand, was soft and silky
to the touch. His shiny lion’s coat covered a body of lean, strong muscles.

He was a male in his prime.
A male lion is his prime, she reminded herself.
That didn’t matter. If she asked herself, truly asked her heart how she felt about the

beast that stood in front of her, the answer came to her without any doubts or
reservations. He was a magnificent and beautiful lion.

And she loved him.
Selena shook her head back and forth emphatically.
“Lander, there’s absolutely nothing repulsive about you. You’re magnificent, so

beautiful it almost hurts my eyes to look at you.”

Selena saw his eyes widen as if surprised and startled by her answer. Was that

vulnerability she saw in his gaze?

Never wanting him to doubt her feelings for him, she did the first thing that came

to mind. Sliding off the couch she knelt in front of him, tugged his mane to pull his
head lower and started rubbing her face over his. She wasn’t sure why she did it. Some
instinct told her it was what he needed. Rubbing her face and head against his soft fur
just felt right.

Lander didn’t pull away. Instead he moved closer. Burying his face in her neck, he

took several deep breaths.

I love the way you smell.
Lifting his head slightly, he rubbed his cheek against hers.
I love the way you feel.
Selena felt a slight vibrations as Lander rubbed his other cheek against hers and

then once again buried his face in her neck.

He was purring.
Selena smiled. He felt content. Just as she did.
I’ve never felt like this about another woman. You’re so special, Selena. Something about

you calls to both the man and beast in me, beckoning me closer, demanding I give you

everything. And I want to, Selena. I want to give you everything.

Lander pulled back slightly. Does that scare you?
“No, Lander. I want the same thing. I want you.”
Lander didn’t say more. Instead he suddenly jerked his head back. Making small

choking noises, he started struggling against something. Selena jumped to her feet and
saw Todd hanging on top of Lander’s back, tightening a rope wrapped around his neck.

“Well, isn’t this quaint,” Todd said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “My girlfriend

is not only inept, worthless and stupid, she also has a thing for animals. That’s just sick,
Selena. One more bad habit I have to beat out of you before I dump you.”

Panic filled her and she charged forward without thought.

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“Leave him alone, Todd!” she yelled. But before she could get close enough Todd

kicked one foot out, centered on Selena’s chest. The impact threw her backward, her
head hitting the edge of the stone fireplace. Her legs gave out and she slid to the ground
seeing stars and then nothing but black.

Lander’s growls and screams of rage brought her back to consciousness. Both he

and Todd were faced the other way but now Lander was half kneeling, half standing,
the lack of oxygen obviously taking its toll.

Selena grabbed the stone bust sitting on the fireplace mantel and silently

approached man and beast. When she thought she was close enough to do damage she
hurled the bust straight at Todd’s head. Her aim was true as it made contact. Todd went
slack and slid from Lander’s back onto the floor.

Lander made small coughing noises, still not standing straight. Selena walked up to

him, touching his side. He immediately turned on her with a growl but once he saw it
was her, his legs gave beneath him and he slammed to the ground.

It was only as she stood above him that she noticed the large metal pipe that lay

next to him. Horrified, she realized that Todd had not only been trying to strangle
Lander, he had also been beating him, bludgeoning him with the pipe.

Turning back to where Todd lay, Selena knew what she needed to do first. Taking

the rope he had brought in she tightly tied Todd’s hands and feet up. She double
knotted everything, knowing that if she didn’t, with his strength, Todd might be able to
break free.

“I heard noises. What’s going on—”
Maggie burst into the room and stopped short at the sight before her.
“We were attacked by my ex-boyfriend. I don’t know how but somehow he

followed us back here and broke into the house.”

“Your ex-boyfriend? But when did you see him, how did he find—”
“Maggie, we don’t have time for questions,” Selena said in a shaky voice, returning

to where Lander lay on the ground. “We need to help Lander. He’s unconscious. Todd
beat him over the head repeatedly and tried to strangle him with that heavy rope I just
tied him up with. Please help me.”

Selena knew that last request sounded weak and shaky. Suddenly Selena felt

helpless. Then scared. Then enraged. Here she was a healer and she didn’t know what
to do for Lander. Should she treat him like an animal or a human? Which technique
would help, which would hurt? Squeezing her shaking hands into tight fists, she
struggled to get a hold of herself. Maybe Todd was right. Maybe she was inept and
worthless.

Selena hadn’t realized she was sobbing until Maggie came to where she half lay,

half kneeled over Lander and laid a comforting hand on her back. His fur was wet from
her tears but suddenly that didn’t matter. Lander gasping for each breath he took and
the slight rattling she heard from his chest became her focus. Holding her head against
his chest, she could hear his heart beating. It sounded weak but steady.

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She let his heartbeat lull her into a peaceful state. Tuning out Maggie’s nervous

chattering, tuning out the room she was in and the trauma she had just experienced,
Selena let calm take over. Holding her hands over Lander’s form, she felt healing
energy spiral inside her, tighter and tighter until she could barely hold it in.

This energy was one she always used when trying to heal others but now, now it

was different. She had never conjured and concentrated the amount of energy she had
in that moment. She consciously filled every particle inside her, every cell, every atom
that made her with the infinite power slowly building inside.

Laying her palms on Lander’s neck, she was interrupted by the sudden presence of

two others. Opening herself slightly to the world around her once more she noticed
Maggie scurrying out of the room with a “yes, ma’am” and closing the door behind her.

Looking to her left she saw a beautiful woman with midnight black hair and

ageless, wise eyes. She was kneeling over Lander but not touching him. To Selena’s
right she saw another woman just as beautiful but different. She had a magical look
about her, with shining silver hair and eyes. Somehow she knew both women were
much more than human.

The silver-haired woman looked over at the black-haired woman and smiled

gently. “Are you ready, my friend?” she asked.

The black-haired woman gave her an answering kind smile. “I’ve been ready for a

long time, Selene. You know that.”

“I know, my friend. But we had to wait, you know that too.”
Both women looked at Selena then.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time, healer,” the black-haired woman said.
The silver-headed woman nodded her head and smiled sadly. “We’ve been waiting

for a witch’s love to heal my son. Clotho couldn’t tell me exactly when or how you
would appear in my son’s life. But she did know this,” Selene explained. “She knew
that Lander’s savior would come on a special night, a night of the full moon, when I’m
at my strongest, but also on an evening when hopes and dreams for a better world were
at a peak, a night when love could be felt so strongly that the air was practically
humming with it. Only on such a night did so many humans stop, take a deep breath
and anticipate the celebration of birth and love.“

“Christmas?” Selena asked.
Lander’s mother smiled and nodded her head.
“Yes, dear. And just as Christmas Eve led to a wondrous miracle, so would this

night miraculously save my son,” Selene continued. “But we had to wait for the right
person.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?” Selena asked, confused. “But I don’t understand.

Why me?”

“It’s simple really. A mother and a witch’s hate are what cursed Lander in the first

place, and only a mother’s and a witch’s love are strong enough to heal him and reverse

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this horrific curse he’s been under his whole life. I know you love my son, dear, now are
you ready to end Lander’s torment once and for all?”

“I-I don’t know.” Selena gulped down a lungful of air, suddenly scared and unsure

of herself. She was kneeling by three legendary beings she had only read about in
school and only in the last hour had learned were, in fact, real. It was overwhelming to
say the least.

Lander’s mother smiled, kindness and compassion in her eyes.
“I understand this is a lot for you to process, dear. But whether you know it or not

you are a very strong healer, a very strong witch. Much of the healing you do is inside
here, not anywhere else,” Selene explained, pointing to Selena’s heart. “Have
confidence in that.”

“But what will happen if I can’t heal him? What happens if I’m not strong enough

and he dies?”

“My son won’t die from these injuries, Selena. He’s immortal, and each time he

transforms he is completely renewed. The sun will be rising soon,” Lander’s mother
said, looking out the library window. “When it does he will rejuvenate and be
completely healed as he turns back into a man. But he will still change into the beast
each and every night for time without end. What you are about to do will not save him
from dying, dear. In fact, if you agree to do this he will no longer be immortal and will
most definitely die one day. But it will save him from the cursed existence he’s had to
live because of the mistake in judgment I made so long ago.”

Lander’s mother choked out the last sentence, tears filling her eyes. Clotho placed a

comforting hand on her shoulder.

“That was a long time ago, my friend. You must forgive yourself.”
Selene shook her head adamantly. “I won’t let the guilt go until I have righted the

wrong I committed against my only son.”

Turning to Selena, Lander’s mother held one hand out to her and placed the other

on Lander’s chest.

“Will you help us? Will you help my son and I?”
In that moment, as Lander’s mother looked at her with tears still falling from her

eyes, Selena knew without a doubt that she would and could save Lander.

“I’m ready,” she said, taking a deep breath as she removed one hand from Lander

and placed it in his mother’s hand.

Pressing her free hand firmly on Lander’s chest, she let the energy build up once

more inside her. She immediately felt the moon goddess’s power mingling with her
own, adding strength to it. The energy built up inside her to the point that it was ready
to burst out of her. She could no longer hold it in.

Releasing her breath, Selena simultaneously released the energy inside her, sending

it shooting out her hand and into Lander. His body jerked wildly under her touch but
she continued to focus her love and healing, sending everything into his body.

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Her body began to shake violently from the power running through her. She knew

she was going to lose consciousness soon. She could feel her energy starting to fade. But
would it be enough to heal Lander?

As the last of her power left Selena’s fingertips, Lander began to glow. Brighter and

brighter his whole body lit up to the point that she had to close her eyes against the
glare. She felt heat coming from him, pushing on her hands, harder and harder until she
was thrown backward from the force of it exploding from his body.

It was too much for Selena. The last of her strength was gone. Unable to rise from

where she had fallen, she let the darkness take her.

* * * * *

Selena’s eyes slowly fluttered open but she quickly closed them again as the

morning’s sunlight glared too brightly.

“Merry Christmas, my sleepyheaded beauty.”
Lander!
Selena popped her eyes open and sat up. Dizziness assailed her, tilting the world

slightly to one side. She squeezed her eyes shut again, willing it to stop. Strong hands
grasped her shoulders, steadying her.

“Easy now. You sat up a little too quickly. Take a deep breath and give yourself a

moment to get your bearings.”

Selena did as Lander suggested but the second the dizziness passed she opened her

eyes again. She stared hungrily at Lander’s face and hair, unable to get enough of the
sight of him.

A boyish smile broke across his mouth, curving his lips up in an irresistible way.
She smiled back.
“Are you okay, Selena?” he asked, taking one hand from her shoulders and running

the back of it against her cheek. She leaned against it, savoring the feel of his touch.

“I’m fine. The real question is, how are you?”
His smile turned into a mischievous grin. “Better. Much better. This Christmas

morning I feel like a different man.”

“I’m glad. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” he said, suddenly serious. “Thanks to you. I knew you were an

unexpected miracle in my life from the moment we met but I didn’t realize until last
night just what kind of miracle you really are. You saved me, healer. Thank you.”

Lander eyes turned dark with emotion as he spoke. Closing the distance between

them, he gently touched his lips to hers. Selena savored his soft, warm touch, wanting it
to go on and on and on.

As if sensing her feelings, Lander pulled her closer, pressing her chest against his

own.

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“You feel so good, so right against me, Selena,” he groaned. “I can’t think of

anywhere else I’d rather be this Christmas day than with you, beautiful.”

“I feel the same, Lander,” Selena whispered in his ear as she hugged him tightly.

“You are the best Christmas present I’ve ever had. I’m so glad you came in my life, my
beast.”

“A beast no longer. You’ve tamed the beast and captured my heart,” Lander said,

kissing her tenderly. “I love you, Selena.”

“I love you too, Lander. And I hope we have many days, many nights and many

moons to show each other just how much.”

“We will, my love. We will.”
Gently capturing her mouth once more, Lander showed her his love with actions

rather than words.

It was heaven.
An insistent knocking interrupted them. Lander pulled away, a look of regret on his

face.

“My mother and Clotho are very interested in talking with you before they leave,”

he explained. “I’d make them wait but I know they must go soon. It is their way.
They’re both very busy ladies.”

Selena would like nothing better than to pull Lander down on top of her and forget

about the rest of the world for a while but it was Christmas.

As if sensing her hesitancy, Lander smiled roguishly. “Don’t worry, Selena. I plan

on having a very private, very intimate and very prolonged Christmas celebration with
you later.”

Selena smiled impishly. “Good. I’m counting on it.”
As Lander walked to the door to open it, Selena suddenly remembered Todd.
“What happened to Todd?”
Looking over his shoulder, Selena saw Lander’s eyes grow stormy at the mention of

her ex-boyfriend’s name.

“Since the weather has finally let up, I was able to contact the police. They paid us a

little visit and I explained how Todd broke in and attacked me. Maggie acted as my
witness,” he explained. “He’ll be charged with breaking and entering as well as assault
and attempted murder. That psycho isn’t going to be out free anytime soon.”

Selena couldn’t feel one ounce of pity for Todd. He deserved it and more.
“I plan on talking to some of his ex-girlfriends as well. I am almost certain I’m not

the first girl he beat. I’ll ask them if they want to bring charges against him but either
way I’ll be reporting him to the police for assaulting me,” she told Lander. “He needs to
be put away for a very long time.”

“You’re right. And he will be,” Lander vowed.

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“Enough of that,” Selena said, determined not to think any more about that

slimeball Todd. “It’s Christmas and I want to properly meet your family.”

“Uh, yeah, about that. Remember how I told you about my half-brother? Well…”
Selena gulped. He couldn’t be talking about— He wasn’t going to introduce her

too— He didn’t mean—? Selena took another deep breath.

“I’m ready.”
It was time to meet Lander’s family. No matter who they were, they were the family

of the man she loved. That’s all that mattered. She had finally met the man of her
dreams. The man she was meant to spend her life with. Not a bad boy she had to
transform, not a spoiled baby she had to take care of but a man. Just a man.

Her man.
She could feel it in her bones.
And one thing Selena had learned as a healer, her bones were never wrong.
Smiling widely, she welcomed Lander’s family into the room with an open heart

and open arms.

The End

64

About the Author

Eden Robins hears voices in her head. Her characters’ voices, that is. She loves

creating new worlds and complex characters that always seem to find their way into
one sticky predicament or another. She enjoys helping them get untangled from these
situations, only to find themselves entangled in love affairs that will last for all time.

Eden welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Also by Eden Robins

After Sundown: Redemption
After Sundown: Salvation

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

[e-mail].

P

ARADISE

D

ESIGNS

Ariana Dupré

66

Dedication

For my family who makes every Christmas merry and bright.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the

following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Honda: Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Styrofoam: Dow Chemical Company

Ariana Dupré

Chapter One

Help me!
Tara Simms stepped out of the elevator and looked up then down the hallway for

the woman who’d shouted. Behind her, the sound of heavy doors sliding together
echoed in the corridor. Tara repositioned the takeout container of lasagna and a bag of
groceries before grabbing at the purse strap slipping from her shoulder. “Hello. Where
are you?”

Silence answered.
Maybe it was an echo from another level that had somehow resonated into the

elevator shaft. Then again, as the only resident of the fourteenth floor, she couldn’t help
but wonder if someone new had moved in.

Help me, Tara.
She almost dropped her dinner.
The voice that had shouted moments ago was now an urgent whisper echoing

through her mind.

“No! Get out of my head!” Tara grumbled, gripping the Styrofoam container and

plastic bag. The strap fell from her shoulder to wrist and the purse banged against her
legs with every step. She let it hang there and hurried to her condo, counting the square
patterns woven into the dark green carpet as she walked.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Her pulse raced with fear.
Paradise Designs Resort and Spa, a newly constructed high-rise on Miami Beach,

had everything a person could ever want in condo living. Located directly on the
Atlantic Ocean it boasted an Olympic sized outdoor pool and smaller indoor pool. The
bottom floor housed a mini-mall that included a grocery store, several restaurants, a
day spa, a gym and retail outlets.

Close to the Miami nightlife, you could walk to the mall, theater and an array of

restaurants and nightclubs. She had been one of the first homeowners, since she knew
the developer, and chose an ocean and pool view condo on the actual thirteenth floor,
even though builders skipped the number thirteen, unit number fourteen-thirteen
specifically to face her fears about the paranormal. She’d thought that choosing a
number associated with the woo-woo stuff would keep spirits away and the voices out
of her mind since avoiding them had never seemed to work. She even decided to make
the number thirteen her lucky number. What a stupid idea that had been.

Sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy.

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Paradise Designs

It took exactly ninety steps from the elevator to her front door. She knew it by heart,

had counted them every day since she moved in a month ago. But today was the first
time she’d heard the whispers over the automatic counting.

At the age of five she had realized that counting things kept the voices quiet. For

the past twenty years she’d counted to keep her mind busy and ignore the whispers. It
was second nature now, an unconscious habit that was constant and consistent in her
daily life. She’d tried to stop once before but hadn’t made it more than a few minutes.
Every time she let her mind rest, the whispers got louder and she had no intention of
letting that happen. She kept her guard up against the spirit world and that’s the way it
would stay.

Tara slowed as she neared her condo. The door to the neighboring unit was

propped open with a wooden footlocker. Inside, the room was filled with boxes piled in
the middle of the beige carpeted floor.

She couldn’t believe that out of all the empty condos on her floor, someone had

chosen the one right next door to her. Maybe it was a woman her age. It was nice to
know that there was someone right next door if she needed anything. The realtors could
have told the new neighbor her name since they were the only people on the floor.
Relief washed over her. Maybe she hadn’t heard a voice in her mind after all.

While she was very independent she found a little comfort in knowing that she was

no longer alone on the floor. It would be great to make a new friend at Christmastime.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” She peeked in but didn’t see any large pieces of

furniture.

An eerie silence was again the only answer.
I must have heard the new neighbors. They might have taken the stairs down for another

box, she thought, trying to convince herself that the voice hadn’t been in her head.

Deep inside she knew it wasn’t true.
Who in their right mind would take thirteen flights of steps down to carry boxes

back up? Besides, the woman had called her by name. In all likelihood the realtors
wouldn’t have shared her name with someone she didn’t know without introducing
them first. She pushed the thoughts aside before she worked herself into a panic. She’d
come back after dinner and welcome the neighbors to the building.

Tara passed the open door and unlocked her condo. Tossing her purse on the

dining room table, she hit the light switch with her elbow and put everything else on
the kitchen counter. She crossed the living room to raise the windows facing the ocean.
In the graying dusk she watched a speedboat pass by, its engine humming as the front
end thumped against the blue waters of the Atlantic. She worked her way across the
ocean view windows and then down the side overlooking the pool area. She really
couldn’t have picked a better place. The views were amazing and it was only ten
minutes from work.

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Ariana Dupré

A man was swimming laps. His tanned body sliced through the water with quick

even strokes. As he reached the shallow end he stood, revealing an athletic, muscular
upper torso. Pushing his wet hair back he looked up at her.

Tara stepped away from the window. No way could he have seen her, yet she felt

as if she’d been caught staring just the same. She didn’t recognize him but then again,
she didn’t know everyone who’d purchased here either.

Walking to the corner she pressed the floor control of the six foot Christmas tree

with her toe. The white lights sprang to life, shimmering off the silver balls and tinsel.
Christmas had always been her favorite time of year despite the fiasco last Christmas
Eve when her boyfriend had broken their engagement and had given the ring she’d
picked out to another girl. This holiday season was a new beginning. She turned on the
stereo and soft instrumental carols filled the air.

In the kitchen she put away the groceries, dumped the lasagna onto a plate,

grabbed a fork and canned soda and then took her dinner into the living room. Kicking
off her shoes, Tara curled up in the corner of the overstuffed leather couch. She rested
the plate on her legs and turned the television to the local news with the volume down.

The lasagna smelled delicious. The flavors seemed to drift with the aromatic scent.

She cut a corner off with her fork and slipped it into her mouth, savoring the rich
tomato sauce and creamy cheeses. She closed her eyes, letting the texture of the
flattened noodles tantalize her taste buds.

Ummm, better than sex.
She opened her eyes and looked at the television. A couple kissed in a vacation

commercial. She couldn’t even remember what good sex was like. A year of celibacy
would do that to you. She watched the man slide his hand down the woman’s back.
Tara sighed. If nothing else, she was determined to step out of her self-imposed
hibernation and involve herself with a man. What better time to start dating again than
on the year anniversary of her failed engagement? With Christmas only a few days
away she knew that finding someone she’d like to go out with would be hard but she
was determined to keep looking.

The lasagna probably tastes so good because I missed lunch, she reasoned.
Goldstein and Powers International Bank was the most prestigious financial

institution on Brickell Avenue. Every day was filled with interesting people. She loved
the hustle and bustle of customers coming and going. But today had been torture. Four
tellers called in sick with the flu which left the branch severely shorthanded.

I hope I don’t catch it. The last thing she needed was the flu during her vacation next

week.

She placed another bite of lasagna in her mouth and glanced at the television. A live

shot of her building was on the screen with the caption “Haunted High-Rise”.

What the hell? Grabbing one remote then another with one hand, she turned down

the stereo and turned up the television volume. It was a reminder that she needed to

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have everything working off one remote. A baritone male voice filled the room as the
camera angled to include the reporter on the screen.

“Real-estate sales in our area are still on the decline, however, some developers

have it worse than others. From the looks of it, Paradise Designs Resort and Spa, with
its lush landscaping and unique amenities wouldn’t be one of those places.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case. You may remember our previous reports during the
construction of the elaborate high-rise where many of the construction workers refused
to return to the job site after experiencing what some considered ghostly encounters.
Rumors of building materials disappearing or thrown across the room and apparitions
of a woman had many of the workers fleeing the building never to return. Despite the
management’s attempts to keep the rumors quiet, sales at Paradise Designs are at an all-
time low with only seventy of the fifteen hundred condominiums sold. In an attempt to
sell the units, management is reducing prices and offering incentives to their current
residents. They have hired international marketing and sales guru, David Blake, who
recently obtained his Florida realtor’s license, to work with the building’s current
realtors to revive interest in this luxury resort and spa. If you’re in the market for a
luxurious oceanfront condominium fit for the rich and famous, and you don’t mind
living with ghosts, then Paradise Designs Resort and Spa may be for you. Ron Capman,
WLDL News, Miami.”

The fork clattered against the ceramic plate as Tara set it on the end table.
This can’t be real.
She’d never heard a word about the place being haunted when she purchased.

Weren’t realtors required to disclose that kind of information? Her appetite gone, she
aimed the remote at the television and flipped to other local channels but couldn’t
locate the story anywhere else. Maybe WLDL was trying to get their ratings up. If the
rumors that they were in financial trouble were true, then that very well might be the
reason for such a fantastical story.

That didn’t slow her pounding heart or help her shallow breathing. She looked

around the room, scared that an apparition might appear.

This is stupid! she thought, even though she realized she was counting the vertical

blinds on the windows. She turned off the television and stereo with the remotes.
“Maybe it’s a good time to meet my new neighbor.”

She put the plate of lasagna in the fridge. She slipped on a pair of sandals and was

about to head out the door when someone knocked on it. She assumed that it was
mystery neighbor number one. Maybe she, or he, needed a cup of sugar. Yes, it would
be nice to have neighbors again.

Putting on her best smile, Tara opened the door to an empty hallway.
No way did I imagine that knock.
She walked over to, and paused in front of, her neighbor’s closed door and then

glanced down the corridor. No ghosts were floating around like they’d said on the

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Ariana Dupré

television. That was a good sign. The construction guys were making up stories or the
station had fabricated the whole segment. That newscast just couldn’t be true.

Tara tapped on the door and waited for several minutes.
Maybe they’d had to go to the bathroom right after knocking on her door. She

pressed the doorbell in case they were in the back of the condo and couldn’t hear her
knocking. Drawing in a shaky breath, and feeling like she was spying, she leaned in and
looked through the peephole.

Where are the boxes? Even through the distortion she could tell the room was

empty. She hadn’t heard any noise through the walls. She would have, wouldn’t she, if
they’d moved those boxes. She knocked louder.

She didn’t imagine all those boxes, did she? No, this isn’t anything paranormal. It’s

not like the times she visited old Mrs. Hicks, the best cookie baker in the neighborhood,
only to find out later that she’d been visiting a ghost in an empty house. A shiver
snaked down her spine.

Is this building really haunted?
Her imagination working overtime. That’s all.
A shadow moved in her peripheral vision. Tara jerked away from the door and

looked down the hall. Was that a woman disappearing into the wall?

No! No, no, no, no, no!
Terrified, Tara sprinted back to her condo and locked the door behind her. Her

pulse raced, her mouth felt dry. Sweat dampened her arms and chest as her body
temperature soared.

This cannot be happening again. I left the paranormal behind when I moved here.
Turning on all the lights she closed the windows and shut the vertical blinds in a

hurry, cocooning herself from the darkness of night. She made her way into the
bedroom, flipping up each light switch along the way. Beside her bed she stepped out
of her sandals while yanking off her work pants and blouse. She jumped under the
covers in her underwear, pulling the heavy comforter under her chin. She lay there for a
long, long time staring around the room, counting and sweating under the covers, until
finally her heartbeat slowed and her eyelids grew heavy.

* * * * *

“Expect another hot, balmy day in South Florida!” The DJ’s voice blared from the

clock radio beside the bed.

Tara groaned and smacked the top of the annoying silver box. Sitting up on the

edge of the bed, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Friday. Thank God. It had been a long week. She deserved the next nine days off.

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She went into the bathroom, showered and put on her makeup. Forty-five minutes

later she was dressed and heading out the door with a travel mug of coffee in her hand.
It wasn’t until she passed by the neighboring unit that memories bombarded her mind.

How did I forget about last night? Must be the lack of sleep.
She hurried past the closed door, counting the squares in the carpet until she stood

in front of the elevator, willing it to hurry up. For the first time since moving here, she
felt uneasy being the only person living on the floor.

A click echoed down the hall from the direction of her condo. She held her breath,

unsure what she’d see. Gathering her courage she glanced back toward her condo. A
tall man with dark hair exited the unit beside hers. A weight lifted from her shoulders.
Someone had moved in next door!

He was quite handsome in a rugged sort of way. Thick brown hair and movie star

good looks. Tara dropped her gaze to his trim waist and down long athletic legs. The
closer he got the better he looked. Then realization hit her. He was the same man she’d
seen in the pool last night.

And I’m staring!
She focused her gaze on toward the floor, counting his footsteps.
“Good morning,” he said, stopping beside her and extending his hand. “David

Blake. It’s nice to meet you…”

His rich baritone voice echoed as he waited for her to finish his sentence. It

wrapped around her, caressing her skin. She looked up into sparkling green eyes set in
a slightly sunburned face. Her heart skipped a beat.

Stop it girl. He’s just saying hello.
“Tara Simms. Did you just move into fourteen-fourteen?”
“Sure did. You’re in fourteen-thirteen aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?” she asked, suddenly on guard. The whispers grew

louder but she blocked them out by counting the stripes in his shirt. She didn’t want to
hear what they were saying. She’d never wanted to hear what they said. It was too
scary to admit that they might be real.

“It’s my business to know these things.” He laughed. “Don’t look so worried. I’m

not a stalker or anything like that. I just moved here to oversee the sales of our beautiful
oceanfront condos here at Paradise Designs. I’m the new lead realtor. The developer of
the building, Paul Richer, was my college roommate and is a good friend. He asked me
to come here and help revive this place.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Blake.” Tara held out her hand. She’d known Paul for a

couple of years through work. He was one of Goldstein and Powers’ biggest clients. If
Paul was Mr. Blake’s friend then he must be okay. She dropped her guard a bit. Paul
was one of the most honest and nicest people she knew.

“Call me David.” He took it in a firm grasp and held it a few moments too long.

“You have beautiful hands, Tara. So elegant. Do you play the piano?”

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Ariana Dupré

“Um, no.” She pulled her hand away. Okay, so David was nothing like Paul. He

came across a little too forward for her liking. While she found the attention flattering it
was also a little disturbing. He seemed like he was a confirmed bachelor who like to
play the field. She knew those kind of men and preferred to stay away from them.

“You’ve lived here about a month right?”
She stared at him and a chill ran up her spine. “I’m not so sure I like it that you

know so much about me, Mr. Blake.”

“Ah, it comes with the job. I was looking at all the recent sales yesterday and yours

was one of them. Please, call me David, okay? After all we are next-door neighbors.” He
adjusted the collar on the casual shirt he wore. Hey, I’m making sugar kisses in a couple
of days. Maybe you could come over and help me.”

“Sugar kisses?” Tara’s mind went into overdrive. Just the way he’d said it, low and

husky, made her think of running her fingers over his broad naked chest while he
kissed her senseless.

“Oh yeah, they’re better than sex.”
What are you? A mind reader?
He grinned at her and his eyes dropped to her chest before he looked back into her

eyes. “Well, maybe not better than sex but they’re damn good.”

Definitely a player.
Tara cleared her throat and faced forward, willing the elevator to hurry up. The few

moments of awkward silence that followed had her pulse rate soaring.

Why did he have to mention sex? Now that was all she could think about. Sex with

him. Hadn’t she just told herself last night that she had to find a man? Here was one
fine specimen standing right in front of her and now she had to get into a small elevator
with him. Sex in an elevator. God! She had to get her mind on something else.

The doors opened and he motioned for her to go in first. Tara stepped inside and

turned to face the control panel. He walked in beside her. “Lobby or mall?”

“Lobby.” She looked away from him but couldn’t hide, not with the elevator’s three

mirrored walls. She caught a glimpse of his butt filling out his dress slacks in the
reflection.

Oh boy.
“Me too.” He grinned and pressed the button. “So, I don’t see a ring. Are you

single?”

“Yes.” Tara’s breath hitched. If he’d been homely this would have been so much

easier. But no, her new neighbor had to look and be built like an action hero in the latest
blockbuster. She found herself attracted to David, not just his looks but his outgoing
personality. He was talkative, with a quick smile and those sparkling green eyes.

“Me too.” He practically beamed at her. “Do you have plans for tonight?”
“Not really.” Tara tingled with anticipation. Is he going to ask me out within five

minutes of meeting me? That would be a first in her book.

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“How would you like to have dinner with me downstairs at Luigi’s? I haven’t had a

chance to eat there yet but the other realtors said their food is delicious.”

Obviously he would.
“It’s very good. I had takeout from there last night.” She looked at the buttons

lighting up above the door. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She’d never before
met a man who oozed such a high level of energy and sexual magnetism.

“We could go somewhere else if you like. I don’t really know anyone here yet and I

hate to eat alone. It’s so boring.”

Tara laughed, more at herself than at him. He wasn’t attracted to her after all. He

was just lonely. “Well, if Paul trusts you as an employee and friend then I guess I could
too. Luigi’s would be fine.”

A broad smile brightened his face. “Great. What time do you get home?”
“Around six.”
“Would you like me to come by your condo around seven? Or I could meet you

down there. I know independent girls today like to meet for dates. But since we live
next door it would be nice to walk down together.” He stared at her, suddenly looking a
little shy even though he was quite the talker.

“You can come by at seven. I’ll be ready.” He considers this a date?
The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. David just stood there staring

at her, grinning.

“Here’s our floor.” She couldn’t help but smile back. His grin was infectious.
He caught the doors with his hand as they started to close. “After you.”
“Thanks.” She stepped out and started around the small foyer into the large open

lobby.

“I’m over here.” He followed her out and pointed to the offices across from the

elevator. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Until tonight. It was nice meeting you.” She walked toward the front of the

building. At the main entrance, she looked back to find him still standing in the foyer,
grinning at her. The whispers tried to break through the barrier she’d built in her mind
but she waved and walked outside, counting the steps down to the valet booth.

“Hi Ralph. How are you today?” she said to the older man standing at the bottom

of the stairs.

“Just fine, Tara. It’s a hot one today. I’ll be right back with your car.” He went

inside the booth, got her keys and disappeared into the parking garage.

Tara sat on the bench and sipped her coffee. She never had to wait more than a few

minutes for her car. When more units sold that would probably change.

“Morning Tara,” a tall blonde said and then grinned. “I saw you talking to Mr.

Blake.”

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Ariana Dupré

“He’s my new neighbor.” Betsy had been her realtor when she bought at Paradise

Designs and was the first person she’d become friendly with.

“I know. I suggested that he take that floor when he arrived last week.” Betsy

grinned as if she were up to mischief. “Paul has been talking about him for a month
now. How he hopes David will meet a nice girl and settle down close-by, you know, all
the regular ‘I’m missing my friend’ stuff. I thought he’d be great for you so I checked
out his credentials and then I suggested the unit next to yours over the phone. Paul
brought him into the office and introduced him to everyone. Once I met him I knew
he’d be perfect for you.”

Tara was so surprised her eyes widened and mouth dropped open during Betsy’s

speech. Betsy just stood there grinning at her.

“Cat got your tongue, Tara?”
“Why would you go to all that trouble?”
“Because I like you. Besides Sam and I need a couple to double date with.” She

winked at Tara. “David has a great personality. He won everyone over the first day. He
sure is hot, don’t you think?”

Tara smiled. David wasn’t the only talkative one this morning. He sure had made

an impression in the office. She watched Ralph pull up in her blue Honda. He held the
door for her. “I guess I should say thanks.”

“Let me know if he asks you out.”
“He already did.”
“Whoohoo!” Betsy licked her finger and touched it to the air, making a sizzling

sound.

Tara laughed and handed Ralph a couple of bucks. “See you later, Betsy. Thanks

again.”

Driving down US 1 toward Brickell, Tara smiled to herself. Maybe this holiday

season would be a new beginning after all.

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Chapter Two

Red or black? Black or red? God. Why can’t I decide?
Tara hung both dresses back in her closet and took out a pair of jeans and a

sleeveless top. Forget dressing to impress. She would go for comfort instead. Besides,
they were just going downstairs to Luigi’s. It wasn’t as if they were going to a fancy
restaurant and then to the clubs on Ocean Drive.

Maybe, if things went well tonight, she’d get to wear one of her sexy dresses

another time. She pulled on the tight jeans and silky top and then looked at her butt in
the mirror. At least these low-rise jeans didn’t make her hips look too big. She stepped
into a pair of low heels and ran freshly manicured nails through her long dark curls to
fluff them up a bit. She checked her makeup and added pink lipstick. She definitely
looked like the girl next door. There wasn’t a thing glamorous about her.

Three sharp knocks sounded from the living room. Tara grabbed her purse from the

bed, took a deep breath and headed down the hall. Before she could get to the front
door there were three more knocks. She peered out the peephole and saw that it was
David.

“You’re right on time,” she said, opening the door.
“Wow. You look amazing.”
For the first time since she’d met him he wasn’t smiling, but instead looked very

serious as his slow gaze traveled from her head to toes and back up again. Her skin
burned as the blush crept up her neck. “Thanks.”

She stepped outside and locked the door behind her. Just his stare made her body

heat up. How in the world was she going to get through tonight? The slight sunburn
across his cheeks had turned tan and the pale yellow shirt he wore accented his golden
skin tone even more. His features were more refined than she’d noticed this morning.
Strong and handsome.

Yeah, Betsy was right. David Blake was one hot, sexy man.
Tara walked beside him to the elevators. His phone rang and he motioned that it

would be just a minute. In the elevator she checked out the way his jeans hugged his
rounded behind, the way his muscular arms flexed against the polo shirt and his
narrow waist while he talked. The man even smelled amazing. A clean scent of spice
and aftershave. Her body reacted in a surge of heat and hormones. The elevator was
way too warm and seemed to shrink in size. The claustrophobic feeling swept her from
head to toe. She wanted to run, to escape the small space. When the doors opened she
walked out into the cooler air of the mini-mall and headed toward Luigi’s, trying to
give herself a little distance from him, but his long strides kept him right by her side.

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David ended the call at the door to the restaurant and reached down to take her

hand in his. “Sorry about that.” He addressed the hostess, “Reservations for Blake.”

The heat sizzled from his palm up Tara’s arm. His grasp was firm and warm as he

followed the hostess to a small booth in a far corner. Tara settled into the seat and took
the menu the girl handed her.

“What do you recommend, Tara?”
She looked up from her menu to find him staring at her, his menu folded on the

table. “I like the lasagna and the spaghetti. Everything here is really good.”

“Then I’ll have lasagna.” His gaze lingered on her.
“Is something wrong?” She squirmed under his inspection. “You’re staring at me.”
“I just didn’t realize this morning how stunning you are.”
“Me? Stunning? That’s funny.” Tara laughed.
“I’m not kidding. I didn’t mean to stare but your eyes are so captivating, your skin

is like ivory, your dark hair so curly. I couldn’t tell the way you had it up in a bun this
morning.”

“Wow. Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. Accepting compliments

always made her feel so uncomfortable.

“I promise I’ll stop gawking. I didn’t mean to make you feel uneasy.” He grinned.

“Some impression I’m making, huh?”

“It’s fine, really. So, tell me, what did you do before you moved to Miami?” She

took a sip of water.

“I sold ice in Alaska.”
Tara choked and nearly spat the water out. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Are you serious?” she said when she could.

He nodded. “I sold ice packs for sports injuries to doctors and hospitals.”
“Oh, I thought you meant real ice cubes.” She shook her glass, making the ice

clatter but felt the burn in her cheeks. Of course he wouldn’t have sold ice cubes in
Alaska. “It’s a long way from Alaska to Miami.”

“I’ve traveled all around the world with different companies. I’ve sold everything

from medical supplies to shoes. When Paul called me up I couldn’t turn down the
warm weather and the opportunity to come here.”

The waitress came over to take their order. David joked with her and chose lasagna

for both of them. Tara watched the twinkle in his eyes and the way he made friends
with the waitress right away, as if he’d known her forever. No wonder he was such a
successful salesman.

“What is the strangest thing you’ve ever sold?” Tara asked when they were alone

again.

“Let’s see.” He leaned back in the seat and watched her, thinking. “I guess it would

have to be about six years ago when I lived in England. My client was a very influential

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businessman whose wife had created this new gadget that would glow whenever a
spirit was near.”

Tara cringed inside. This was not a story she wanted to hear. “That does sound

strange. Oh look, our salads are here.”

Thank God for small favors.
The waitress set the salads in front of them, offered freshly ground pepper and

grated cheese and then left.

David ate a big forkful of salad. “This is really good.”
“Just wait until you taste the lasagna.” Tara nibbled at her food.
“The Spirit Bulb was a hard sell at first because I targeted the wrong market. Once I

tapped into the spiritualist and paranormal communities, it gained in popularity but
was never popular on an international level like some of the other products I’ve sold.
Take the NavSite 3000 for instance. It launched the whole market for Global Positioning
Systems on a worldwide level.”

“I’ve heard of that one.” Tara sipped water. “I had thought about getting it for my

car but I don’t drive enough to need it.”

“Maybe we could remedy that.” David pushed his empty salad bowl aside and took

her hand. “You’ve never tried to play the piano? Your fingers are so long.”

“I’m not musically inclined.”
“Humm.” He caressed her fingers. “I bet your touch drives men wild.”
Tara tried to pull her hand away but he held tight. He looked into her eyes. Tara

quivered when she saw the desire burning in them. “I’m not in the habit of driving men
wild. I’ve been celibate for a year now.”

Open mouth, insert foot. Why, oh why, did I tell him that?
“Someone as beautiful as you?” His voice was barely more than a whisper and his

green eyes darkened even more. “Why?”

I was just asking myself the same thing.
Tara shifted in her seat, trying again to take her hand back but he held on. Heat

surged through her as his thumbs traced tiny circles on her palm. There was no getting
out of this one. “Last Christmas Eve my boyfriend was supposed to propose. We’d
picked out the ring, he’d bought it but he wanted the actual proposal to be a surprise.
On Christmas Eve instead of proposing he broke up with me and said that he bought
the ring for another girl he’d been dating. I thought we were exclusive but he’d only
used me. After that, I swore never to get hurt again so I just stopped dating. During the
last full moon I went for a walk on the beach and decided that this Christmas would be
a new beginning for me. I’m over the past and ready for the future.”

“He was a damn fool.” David lifted her hand and kissed the palm.
“David…” She couldn’t breathe. The touch of his lips burned her flesh.
He looked up and grinned. “I bet I could make you lose all control.”

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I bet you could too. “How?”
It was a direct challenge. She was feeling bold in her new beginning so why not?
The waitress arrived with their main course and the moment was lost.
Tara pulled her hand away and this time David released her. She looked up at the

older waitress setting the plates on the table, silently thanking her for having
impeccable timing. Tara could have gotten herself in too deep too fast. She’d make sure
to leave her a big tip. Once their drinks were refilled the waitress went on to another
table.

David dug into the food. Tara watched him eat with the same gusto he had when

dealing with people.

“It’s really good, don’t you think?”
“You were right,” he said between bites, “delicious.”
As they ate in silence Tara decided that David must live life to the fullest. He was

outgoing and friendly toward people, a hard worker, interesting and took his food very
seriously.

And very, very sexy. Problem was, he knew it. Charm and charisma practically

dripped from him.

Maybe Betsy was right and they could be more than friends. Feeling full, Tara

moved the dish to the edge of the table, leaving a third of the lasagna on the plate. Her
mind was still tangled around what he could do to make her lose control.

“With you at the helm, Paradise Designs will be sold out in no time,” Tara said, just

to have something to say.

“I don’t know about that.” David leaned back in the seat and rubbed his stomach.

“I’m stuffed.”

He indicated that he wanted the check to the waitress when she walked by with her

hands full of empty dishes.

“It’s going to be hard to turn around the public image of this place but at least I

have free rent until I get the job done.” He laughed. “I just got my realtor’s license so
I’m considered a newbie.”

“You have such a winning way with people, you’ll be great.” He sure had a

winning way with her. She found his laugher very appealing with its rich tones.
“Besides, you sold ice in Alaska so you can sell anything.”

“I’ve never sold condos before. When I sold the Spirit Bulb it got me interested in

the paranormal and metaphysics. I have to say though that I don’t have any abilities
other than sometimes knowing when something is about to happen. That was another
reason that I took this job. I thought maybe I could learn more about the other side.”

Tara tried to drown out the rising pitch of the whispers by counting the squares on

the red and white tablecloth. She should have known that David was too good to be
true. “How could you learn about the other side by taking a job here?”

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“This building is haunted, which will make sales difficult, especially after all of the

television publicity it received.” He took the bill that the waitress laid on the table and
took out his wallet. “I personally can’t wait to see the ghost.”

“You really don’t believe all that do you? Don’t you think it’s just a story that the

station came up with to increase ratings?” Tara took some money from her purse and
handed it to David. “Here.”

“I don’t think so.” His eyebrows rose as he looked at the money.
“I insist.” Tara grinned at him.
He looked at her thoughtfully, took the twenty, five and one dollar bills she offered,

put his hands underneath the table and then placed his right hand back on top. “Okay,
Ms. Independent, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you pay for your half if you can tell me which
bill I have in my hand.”

“It’s the fifty you were about to put in here.” She tapped the vinyl case the waitress

had laid down.

“Lucky guess.” He opened his hand and showed her the fifty, then chose another

bill and put his hand back on top of the table. “Try again.”

“The one.”
“Again.”
“Twenty. The five is on your thigh, not in your hand.” Why she wanted to impress

him with abilities that she hated and denied, surprised her. Maybe she secretly wanted
to scare him away. Could it be that she just wasn’t really ready for that new beginning
like she’d thought?

“Amazing. How did you get every one right?” Keeping his word, David put her

money in with the bill and added money to it to reach the total plus tip.

“It’s like you said, lucky guesses.”
David stood and reached out for her hand. He helped her out of the booth but not

before she slipped an extra twenty under the edge of her plate for the waitress.

“Would you like to go out to the beach before we head back upstairs?”
She started to turn him down, but the pleading puppy eyes tore at her heart. “Oh,

all right.”

* * * * *

Dinner had been entertaining. The walk on the beach enlightening.
David was very charismatic and loved to laugh. He was as refreshing as a rain after

a sweltering hot day. Being with him had made Tara decide she needed more laughter
in her life. He even ignored her attempt to push him away when she guessed all the
right bills. As they walked back to the building holding hands, the smell of baking
bread and chocolate chip cookies drifted on the air. The palm trees were decorated with
white lights along the stem of each frond. Her favorite.

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“Smell that? Baking really puts me in the holiday spirit. It reminds me of my

mother.”

“Me too. I really like the decorations.” Tara swung her hand slightly as they walked

up toward the back door of Paradise Designs. “This is a beautiful building. I think
you’re wrong about it being haunted though.”

“Do you have another explanation for what the workers saw?”
“They’re just stories. They let themselves get spooked somehow and then thought

they saw something that they didn’t. Besides, this is a new building, how could it be
haunted? It’s not like it was built on an Indian burial ground. Besides, if these
accusations were true wouldn’t the realtors have to disclose it?”

“No, realtors don’t have to disclose suspicions about a property, especially

something of a paranormal nature that most people wouldn’t believe anyway.” He
released her hand, opened the door and followed her inside the building. “It wasn’t
built on a burial ground as such, but there was a murder on the property before Paul
purchased it.”

“W-what?” Tara adjusted the strap of her purse. This couldn’t be right. Her feelings

of joy plummeted to the pit of her stomach. She’d left one haunted house to move into
another one?

“When the workers started complaining, Paul hired some investigators to check out

the property’s history, you know, more than just a title search.” David stopped in front
of the elevator and pushed the button to call it down.

“He never mentioned that to me when he suggested I buy here.”
“Probably because he was trying to get his friends in, hoping they’d bring their

friends and so on. Besides, most people are nonbelievers so why risk sounding like a
nutcase to potential homeowners?”

The elevator doors opened. David’s large palm lay against the small of her back

sent tingles spinning up her spine.

“The story that the investigators told Paul wasn’t a nice one. So, I believe there is

truth to the ghost story.”

“Tell it to me.” Tara looked into his eyes. “Please?”
“You’re not afraid of ghost stories are you? Your skin is looking a little pale.”
“No, not at all.” They terrify me.
“Okay then. They said that a young woman inherited the land with a single story

house from her grandparents. Four years ago, on Christmas Eve, she was home alone
when someone shot and killed her. The police never solved the case. The family
couldn’t bear to keep the property and sold it to Paul, but they didn’t tell him about the
murder. He hadn’t moved to Miami then so he hadn’t heard anything on the news.
During construction, so many strange events happened that the workers quit their jobs.
This delayed the completion and rumors of ghosts in the building spread fast in the
community. The company tried hard to cover up all the negative publicity but condo

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sales are still down even though there is a slight increase in Dade county sales. I think
it’s because no one wants to live in a haunted building.”

“If I had known this I wouldn’t have bought here either. I left one haunted house to

move an hour south into another one? And now you’re telling me that the bogus story I
saw on the news last night is true?” Tara shook her head. “Do me a favor please and put
my condo back on the market tomorrow.”

“Now, hold on a minute. I thought you weren’t afraid of ghost stories.”
“I’m scared of everything.”
The elevator opened. He held the door so she could step out into the hall.
“I’ve had a really great time, David. Thank you.”
“So have I. Would you like to go out again sometime?” He started walking down

the hall with her.

“I’ll think about— Oh my God!” Tara froze in place and stared down the hallway at

her front door. “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Tara, what’s wrong?” David looked down the hall but didn’t see anything out of

the ordinary.

“Don’t you see her?”
“Who?”
“The woman standing in front of my door. Oh God, oh God.” Tara spun around

and ran back to the closed elevator doors and frantically pressed the buttons. Tears
welled in her eyes. “Not again, I can’t deal with this again!”

David caught up with her and spun her around in his arms. “Tara, what did you

see?”

“I have to get out of here. I can’t go home tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because that woman just floated through my front door. There’s no way in hell I’m

sleeping in there. You’re right. This place is haunted. Just put my place up for sale. I’m
staying at a hotel until I can find another place to live. Come on, damn it…” She pushed
the call button several more times.

“You’re not going anywhere.” David gathered her in his arms. “Shh…it’s all right,

Tara. Let’s go into my condo. I’ll fix you a nightcap and then we’ll talk until you feel
better. I can’t let you go anywhere when you’re this upset, okay?”

Tara rested her head against his broad chest. The spicy scent of him and his strong

protective arms helped to soothe her frazzled nerves a little. She nodded against him.
“Okay, but I’m not looking down the hall again. Just tell me when we’re inside your
place.”

“I can do that.” David wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her into his

condo. Once inside, he locked the door. “You can open your eyes now.”

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She did and was surprised at the elegant feel. His condo could be a model home for

the building. It boasted modern furnishings with unique accessories. Soft lighting
spilled to the floor from the tracks along the wall. She set her purse on the dining room
table. “This is nicely decorated. Did you do it yourself?”

“No, I just told the decorator what I wanted before I moved here.”
“But this place was empty last night. The door was propped open.”
“They work fast.” David stepped behind a small bar in the corner of the living

room. “What’s your pleasure?”

“What do you have?”
“There’s wine, vodka, rum, tequila—”
“I’ll take tequila shots.”
David poured a shot and handed it and the salt to her. He retrieved a lemon from

the small refrigerator underneath the bar. Before he could cut it, Tara threw back the
drink and poured another.

The liquor warmed her stomach but the effect wasn’t fast enough. Her nerves were

so on edge her hands shook. She shook the salt on her hand, drank the next shot and
sucked on the lemon before turning her gaze to David. He watched her with one
eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry. I don’t normally drink like this but…”
“You don’t have to explain. Want another?”
“Yes.” She waited while he poured her a double shot and then drank it down.
“More?”
“I’m good, thank you.”
David walked around the bar and guided her to the couch. “Sit down and tell me

exactly what you saw.”

“A ghost. For the first time in my life I saw a ghost and realized what it was the

moment I saw it. That’s never happened to me before.” Tara sat on the couch and
pressed her fingertips against her temples. “I can’t go in there. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have too.” David sat beside her. “You’ve seen ghosts before?”
“Oh boy, I shouldn’t have downed that so fast.” The liquor made her feel

lightheaded. “When I was twelve I used to visit Ms. Hicks who lived down the street,
on the way home from school. She was always baking something for the neighbors. She
was so friendly and nice. One Saturday I asked if I could go over to Ms. Hick’s house.
Mom said she’d died five years earlier. Mom wasn’t surprised that I’d talked with her
but it freaked me out so badly that I’ve been afraid of everything the least bit
paranormal since. I’m just a big old scaredy-cat who can’t even watch scary movies.”

“Why wouldn’t your mother be surprised that you’d seen a ghost?”
“Because it runs in the family. Grammie’s clairvoyant, Mom’s a medium, and me—I

had to get it all. Quite frankly, I hate it. I never wanted to be this way or to ‘carry on the

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family tradition’ as Mom says. There’s only one way to keep it away and tonight that
didn’t even work.”

“That’s why you started counting? Is that what keeps it away?”
Tara released her head and looked up. David’s brow was furrowed, his eyes were

filled with worry and concern. “Oh my God. I… I’ve never told anyone those things
before. Damn tequila. You must think I’m…”

What have I done? Why had she felt compelled to tell him so many personal things?

She’d just met the man. Maybe she should go out to the beach and bury her head in the
sand in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should go.”

She jumped up from the couch to leave. Dizziness spun around her. She stumbled

and large hands caught her around the waist.

“You don’t drink often do you?”
Tara shook her head that she didn’t.
David pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her stomach,

nuzzling his cheek to hers. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t think anything bad
about you or your ability. In fact, I envy you. I wish I could have seen her too.”

Tara turned in his arms to face him. “You do?”
He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I think that you need to stay here tonight.

You can have my bed.”

“Are you going to be in it?”
“Do you want me in it?”
“I…ahh…umm…”
David chuckled. “I’ll sleep on the couch. This way I can protect you.”
“I can’t. I just met you. I should just go to a hotel.” Tara wiggled out of his embrace.

She missed his arms as soon as he released her. But it would be a mistake to stay.

“You shouldn’t drive. You can lock yourself in my bedroom. I promise I won’t

bother you. If you need anything from your condo, I’ll go over and get it for you.”

He looked sincere. And she would feel better knowing that she wasn’t alone. What

if the spirit followed her to the hotel? “Okay. But I better go to bed now. It’s getting late
and my head feels heavy.”

David led her to his room and turned on the light on the nightstand. “The shower is

over there. Fresh towels are out already.” He reached into a drawer and took out a pair
of shorts and a t-shirt. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Tara sat on the bed and looked up at him. “Thank you, David.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He flashed a brilliant smile.
He closed the door and she went over and locked it. What a way to make a first

impression. Her stomach burned from the tequila. She took off her jeans and shirt and
climbed under the covers. The pillow smelled like him, spicy fresh and clean. She

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thought of him in the next room and wished he was beside her, holding her, keeping
her safe from everything that went bump in the night.

Then again, she wasn’t one to sleep with a man too quickly, especially on the first

date. But as she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what kind of lover he’d be and
exactly how he planned to make her lose control.

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Chapter Three

The morning sunlight warmed David’s face. He turned on his back to stretch out

across the couch. He’d lain awake for hours last night thinking about Tara sleeping in
his bed. Something about her had touched him from the moment he met her, holding
him spellbound. He’d known she was special from their first meeting in the elevator.

A smile spread across his face as he thought how out of character it’d been for him

to ask her out within minutes of meeting her. But she’d said yes and made his day. He
sat up on the couch and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He’d wake her, take a shower
and then cook her breakfast. But first, coffee. He went into the kitchen and started the
machine. He walked down the hall to his bedroom only to find the door cracked open.

“Tara?” When she didn’t answer he pushed the door open. The bed was made and

a note lay across the comforter, thanking him for his hospitality.

So much for breakfast.
David dropped the note back on the bed. He walked out onto the balcony and

looked out across the ocean. He knew Tara had been embarrassed after she’d told him
about her abilities. He’d seen it in her eyes. He also knew she was talking out of fear.
The tequila hadn’t helped her feel any more comfortable discussing the paranormal or
the fact that she’d seen a ghost.

A woman running down the beach caught his attention. Her dark curls pulled back

in a ponytail swung back and forth beneath her shoulders. She wore a pair of tight-
fitting running shorts with a cut-off sports top. Nice-looking girl. Fit, toned and curvy.
She reminded him of Tara. She stopped to speak with an older woman with a dog. For a
moment she looked back toward the building.

It was Tara. She rubbed the animal’s head and resumed her run.
Why hadn’t he noticed all those curves last night? He remembered her soft skin,

how she’d melted into his arms. Lying on that couch, imagining her in his bed with her
hair splayed out on his pillow, he’d wanted nothing more than to climb in there with
her. He couldn’t believe she’d been celibate for a year. When she said that he’d wanted
to make love to her right then. Desire had made him come on too strong.

He went back inside and took a quick, cold shower. In the past he’d never had the

time or inclination to get involved in any kind of serious relationship. But there was
something about Tara—a simple purity—that had him thinking about settling down in
Miami. Maybe she was the one.

Once showered and dressed, David made a cup of coffee and went back to the

balcony to look for Tara. He was surprised to see her running up the beach to the back
of the building. His timing couldn’t have been any better. He finished the coffee, rinsed

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the cup and set it in the kitchen sink. Slipping his house key into his pocket, he waited
by the door, propping it open with his foot while leaning on the frame, until the
elevator stopped on their floor.

Tara exited with her head down. She didn’t look up as she walked up the hall. Not

good. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Tara,” he called out.
Startled, she looked up. He waved, stepping out into the hall so the door closed

behind him.

Her smile made his heart swell. She looked amazing with sweat glistening over her

body and wearing that tiny outfit. It was made out of a thin stretchable fabric. Off her,
he could probably ball up both pieces in one fist. Her face was flushed with wisps of
hair escaping from the ponytail. There was definitely something special about her. She
stopped in front of him. Her breathing still labored from the workout.

“Hi,” she said on a breath, not really looking at him. Her brows furrowed. “Listen,

I’m really sorry about sneaking out, I was just so embarrassed about the things I told
you last night, and then sleeping over—”

“It’s fine. Stop worrying so much.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. “I had a great

time last night.”

Tara looked up at him. David could have sworn a flicker of desire swept across her

face.

“So did I.” She stepped away. Worry wrinkled her brow when she looked at her

condo. A small shudder escaped on a breath. “I’d better get a shower.”

“Let me check it out for you. To make sure there aren’t any ghosts in there.”
“I went inside this morning. Everything was fine. Maybe she only comes out at

night.”

“Humor me,” David winked at her. “Key?”
She took a chain from her neck and handed it to him.
David opened the door and walked inside. A large cushy couch starkly contrasted

the modern angular plane of the sofa in his home. The glass-topped bamboo coffee table
with matching end units complemented the furnishing. Paintings of tropical scenes,
knickknacks and warm colored accessories gave the condo a pleasant feeling of home.
Very cozy.

He glanced in the kitchen then headed down the hall. “Let me just check the

bedrooms.” The guest room contained a desk, computer, bookshelf and file cabinet. He
opened the door to the master bedroom when Tara grabbed his arm.

“Wait. I didn’t clean up this morning.” She brushed past him, her breast rubbing

against his arm. “I was in a hurry to get on the beach.”

Or in a hurry to get out of here. He could see the fear in her eyes, regardless of how

much she was trying to act like nothing was bothering her.

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He saw what she was after before she got to them. A beige lacy thong lay on the

floor. A matching bra was slung over the arm of a chair that belonged to the living room
set.

That’s what she’d had on under her clothes last night?
His heart slammed against his chest just thinking about her wearing those tiny

pieces of lace. The sports outfit she wore now did little to conceal her body so it was
easy for his mind to imagine her wearing even less.

She bent over to pick them up, giving him an amazing view of her behind. In the

bathroom she dropped the underwear into the clothes hamper. When she faced him
again her face was bright pink, not from exertion but from embarrassment.

“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.
David cleared his throat. He looked at the king-sized bed. He wanted much more

than coffee from her but for now, it would do. “That would be nice.”

Tara slipped by him in the doorway. It was refreshing to find someone who

blushed easily, someone who was a bit on the shy side but still independent. Tara didn’t
need a man, but she didn’t come across as brazen and forward like his past love
interests, relationships that never worked out. He’d found that crass independence
attractive before but now his tastes had changed.

He followed her down the hall, watching the sway of her hips until she turned the

corner.

“Make yourself at home. This will only take a few minutes,” she called from the

kitchen.

David settled into the couch. It was as comfortable as it looked. “How did you sleep

last night?”

“Like a log.” Several minutes later she came out of the kitchen with two coffee

mugs on a tray with milk and sugar. “Once I was in your bed the tequila knocked me
out.”

His brain stuck on in your bed.
He took a big gulp of the black coffee she offered him. Its heat burned going down,

taking his mind off the image of Tara in his bed. “I know you’re uncomfortable talking
about scary stuff but I think there is a reason you saw the ghost.”

Tara sat down on the couch beside him. “Why would she appear to me?”
“Maybe you’re supposed to help her.”
“Now you sound like my mother.” She sipped from her cup.
“Your mom’s a medium, isn’t that what she does? Help spirits to the other side or

resolve issues so they can move on?”

“How’d you know that?”

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“I’ve researched the paranormal. In fact, I really like learning about it and

investigating. Last night, when you were talking about how abilities run in your family,
you said you got everything. What abilities did you get?”

Tara set the cup on the coffee table. Leaning back on the couch, she took the

scrunchie out of her hair. It fell down around her breasts. “You name it, I’ve got it. But
the clairaudience is the worse. I have to count to keep the spirits quiet. I do it all the
time, even when I’m not trying. Last night freaked me out because I’d never seen a
ghost and known it was a ghost when I saw it. The last one that I saw manifest was Ms.
Hicks.”

“I talked to Paul last night after you went to bed.” David put the empty cup on the

tray. “I think that we should research this murder. He told me that the public
information about the case in on microfiche at the library and the official investigation
is in a case file at the police station. He said it’s a cold case that was never solved. He
offered to let us review his file but he’s out of town and won’t be back for two weeks. I
think we should go to the library this morning and the police station. Let’s see what we
can find out about this ghost. If you use your abilities maybe you could tap into
something that would help her move on.”

“I don’t consciously use my abilities like that.” She leaned her head back on the

couch, then glanced at him.

“Why not?”
“I scare easily, so I block all the weird stuff. I don’t want people to think I’m some

kind of freak who talks to dead people. You’re the only one who knows outside my
family. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t tell secrets. You can trust me, Tara.” He picked up a lock of her hair to twirl

the curl around his finger. “You know, with all of the stuff going on last night, I didn’t
get to kiss you goodnight.”

“You wanted to kiss me?” Her eyes widened.
“Still do. Seeing you sitting there all hot and sweaty in that skimpy outfit makes me

want to kiss you right now. May I?”

Tara nodded. Before she could change her mind, David leaned forward, and

stroked her cheek with his hand. He captured her lips with his, softly caressing them,
coaxing her mouth open. With a sigh, she lowered her defenses and relaxed. David
deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted like coffee, sweet and
sugary.

Her hands slid around his neck. He felt her tense as the kiss became more urgent.

He sensed her need as his own and embraced her, tugging her against his chest.

This is a woman I could love.
David broke the kiss to stare into her brilliant blue eyes. Love. He’d never wanted to

be in love before, yet it could come so easily, so quickly, with Tara. Her cheeks turned
soft pink under his scrutiny. She started to wiggle free from his hold.

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“I’ve got to take a shower if we’re going to look at microfiche.”
“I’ll wait for you.” He realized he meant it in more ways than one.

* * * * *

Tara scanned through the newspaper on microfiche. They’d only found two brief

articles so far. Neither had been very helpful. She glanced over at David sitting at the
terminal beside her. “I think we’re wasting our time. We should have gone to the police
station first.”

“We just need to find the right date. We can talk to the police this afternoon.” David

moved his chair back. “Come look at this one.”

She rolled her seat closer to him. “What?”
He scanned down the page. “I think I’ve found the first article written after the

murder. It seems to have more information.”

“What’s it say?” Tara wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the details but she

looked over his shoulder anyway.

“It has the victim’s name. Lisa Cunningham. When she arrived home from work the

house had been ransacked. She called the police to report what she thought was a
breaking and entering. While she was on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator, they heard
a shot and Lisa stopped talking. They sent several units out to her house. She was DOA.
Her body was on the floor beside the phone, which was off the hook. They never found
the murder weapon. The prime suspect was her ex-husband but he had an alibi. It has
reactions from some neighbors but that’s about it.” He scrolled further down the page.
“Look, here’s a picture of the house.”

Tara scooted closer so she could see the photos. One was a close-up of the house

and another included several people standing on the sidewalk behind the yellow taped
police line. Two men in the picture looked as if they were rising up from the page,
looking almost three dimensional. Tara blinked. The images didn’t change. The
whispers got louder in her head. Fighting against them, she counted the lines on the
page in front of her.”

“What is it?” David faced her.
“Nothing. Why?” She caught his gaze.
“You’re counting.”
“I am? Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was saying it out loud.”
“Talk to me, Tara. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
His eyes were soft and caring. She could trust him couldn’t she? After spilling her

guts last night, it was almost a relief that someone else knew.

She pointed to the screen. “See this man in the dark business suit? And this one in

the tropical shirt? They look like they’re raised up from the picture.”

“How so?”

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“They look like they’re coming toward me, like they’re closer to me than the other

people in the picture. Usually when I see something like this it means something. I just
don’t know what it means about these guys.”

“What could it mean?”
“Well, the last time I was looking for a job, the ad for Goldstein and Powers seemed

to be raised from the page and that drew my attention to it. I knew right away that if I
applied I’d get the job.’

“Is anything else happening?” David held her hand. “Last night you said that you

counted to keep the voices in your head quiet. Are they talking to you right now?”

Tara nodded. She knew what he wanted her to do. “I don’t want to listen to them.”
“They might be able to tell you something that could help solve this case. A clue

that the police missed during the investigation.”

“Oh please.” Tara rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that the police would listen

to me?”

“They might.”
“No, they’ll just think I’m a nutcase. I can’t listen to the whispers. If I do I’ll open

the door to that realm and then they’ll never leave me alone, just like they never leave
Mom alone. Besides, they scare me. Let’s just keep looking. Maybe something else will
show up.”

“Okay, I’ll take December twenty-seventh,” David said.
“I’m still looking through the twenty-sixth.” She rolled back over to her terminal.

The police had to have missed something. Maybe David was right. If she listened she
might gather some new information. But then she’d have to explain where she got it
from.

No, that’s not happening.
She scrolled through the rest of the day and then started on December twenty-

eighth’s paper. Right on the front page was another picture of the murder scene. This
time there was the same picture with the men raised from the page and another one of
the inside of the house.

“Here’s another picture,” David said.
She looked at it. The same two men were in that one too. And they were raised from

the page. The voices became so loud she put her hands over her ears. “I don’t get it.
Those same two guys stand out in all of the pictures. These whispers in my head are
practically screaming at me.”

“Why don’t you just listen to what they’re saying then?”
Tara stared at David as if that were the most ridiculous suggestion he could have

made. But then again, he didn’t know her reasons either. “I can’t listen to them.”

“Why not?”

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Tara swallowed. Her throat tightened and tears welled behind her eyes. She

couldn’t help it. Whenever she thought of Linda she always wanted to cry. “Because the
one time I listened to the whispers someone I loved died.”

David seemed to be waiting for details but she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. She didn’t

know him well enough to trust him with those feelings. “I’ve had a rough day. Could
we leave now?”

* * * * *

Outside in the warm Florida sunshine, the murder seemed distant. Light always

replaced darkness.

“Don’t you find it strange that there wasn’t a picture of Lisa Cunningham in any of

the articles?” Tara put on her sunglasses and walked close to him. Despite the warm
temperature, cold chills still ran through her body.

“Maybe the family asked to keep it out of the media. The police must have one.

Let’s go to the station.”

Tara grasped David’s forearm with her hand and stopped him. “I really don’t want

to do this anymore. The killer is still out there. What if he finds out what we’re doing?
He might try to come after us too.”

“You’ve watched too many horror movies.” David wrapped his arm around her

shoulder, drawing her close, and continued down the sidewalk.

“Actually, I haven’t. I don’t watch scary movies.” Lord knows she’d tried. With her

friends in high school, on dates, but it never worked out. She’d always had to leave the
room because a choking fear would rise up through her until she couldn’t breathe.

“I know exactly what you need.” David steered her in the direction of a Cuban

bakery. Several tables with brightly colored umbrellas sat around the front of the
business.

“Pastries?” Tara laughed. “It’s after lunch. I don’t think they’ll have any at this time

of day.”

“They always have pastelitos.”
David stopped at the outdoor window and spoke to the employee in Spanish. She

took his money and went to the interior of the store to get what he ordered.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Tara said.
“I worked in Spain for a couple of years so I learned. It’s a beautiful language.”
The lady set a white box and two cups just outside the window on a small ledge.
“I understand a little but I don’t speak it.” Tara picked up the drinks, set them on a

nearby table and sat in a chair. “What did you order?

“Pastelitos.” He opened the container and pointed inside. “The round ones are meat,

the oblong ones are cream cheese and the square ones are guava.”

“And to drink?”

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“Café con leche. I took a chance that you like Cuban coffee with milk.”
“You’re right.” Tara sipped the hot brew. She picked up a cream cheese pastelito, its

glazed top glistening with sugar and took a bite. “Delicious. These are my absolute
favorites.”

“A woman after my own heart. When I was growing up we’d get these every

Saturday morning at that little bakery down on Miracle Mile. I was so disappointed to
find out they closed while I was away.”

She watched him scarf down two of the six pastries. “You grew up in Coral

Gables?”

He nodded. “Sure did. I started in sales right after high school. I sold jewelry

downtown in the Seybold building. I connected with one of the top diamond
manufacturers and traveled the world with them for about six years. They always say
that girls love diamonds and boy did I ever find out that was true. It got to the point
that I quit telling my dates where I worked. Eventually I moved on to other sales jobs
and made a name for myself in the industry. Do you want one of the meat or guava
ones?”

“This one is enough for me. You eat the rest.” She finished the last bite then sipped

coffee. By his tone of voice it was obvious that he didn’t intend to give diamonds to
anyone.

“You’re a confirmed bachelor?”
“Oh yeah. I like the wind beneath my wings. I wouldn’t want to be tied down at

this point in my life.”

“Me either. Not after last year.” She watched him eat. The man enjoyed his food.

He’d had a hearty appetite at Luigi’s too. “I don’t cook.”

Why did I say that?
“That’s all right. I do. Maybe I can cook dinner for you one night.” He eyes sparkled

as he licked the sugar off his fingers and thumb. “Once we’ve solved this case.”

“If the police couldn’t solve it what makes you think we can?”
“Like I said, there’s a reason that you saw this spirit.”
He leaned back in the chair and stretched. The muscles in his arms and chest

contracted with the movement. Tara caught herself staring. She’d fallen asleep
wondering what kind of lover he would be and looking at him now the thought snuck
back into her mind. A no-strings-attached relationship with David might just be what
she needed.

“I’m not the only one who’s seen the ghost so that’s not true. The construction crew

saw her too.”

“True, but you’re the only one who has seen her recently and, as far as we know,

the only one that’s seen her who has psychic abilities.”

“Unwanted abilities.” She’d always hated having them, since she was old enough to

understand what they were. Mom and Grammie always said she’d come into her own,

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but they didn’t tell her it was so frightening. Sure, they’d tried to help her understand
how to use the abilities. She knew everything in a textbook sort of way because her
family talked openly about the woo-woo stuff. Occasionally she would use the
clairvoyance, like she had last night while guessing the dollar amount of the money, but
other than that she’d chosen to block out everything pertaining to psychic abilities and
the paranormal. She wasn’t ready to remove those blocks now even though Grammie
and Mom repeatedly told her that life would be easier once she claimed her gifts.

“I have faith in you, Tara. Last night you were very accurate. I think you just need

to get comfortable using your abilities.”

He sipped the coffee and a bit spilled on his lower lip. He licked it off and then

drew his lower lip into his mouth before taking another sip.

He didn’t even know how erotic that looked to her.
“No, that’s not what I need at all.” What she needed was to have him kiss her

senseless like he had in the condo. To set her body on fire with just his lips. She let her
gaze drop to his chest then back to his full mouth. If the kiss was any indication, this
man knew the fine art of lovemaking.

“Tara?”
Oh God. He caught staring again.
“Yeah?” Then again, maybe she’d just been without a man for too long.
“I was asking if you’d like to practice on me?”
Would I ever. But that’s not what he meant. “Practice what on you?”
“Using your abilities. Unless you had something else in mind.”
“No, nothing else. I don’t want to use my abilities either.” She stood up. “It’s hot

out here don’t you think? We should be getting back.”

She tossed her half-full cup of coffee into the trash. He threw out the rest of the

containers and scooped her hand into his, stopping her.

“I have something else in mind.” He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms

around her.

“You do?” She looked up into his eyes which had darkened with desire.
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about how sweet you taste.”
His lips parted as he kissed her, beckoning her to let him in. She kissed him back,

opening her mouth to taste, to tangle her tongue with his. His hand slid up her back,
stopping at the nape of her neck, holding her closer. Heat seared through her.

Oh yeah, the man has skills.
David ended the kiss with a series of small kisses. “Are you counting?”
“What?” Tara put her palms against his chest to push back a bit. “No, I guess you

had me pretty distracted.”

“Good.”

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Tara thought back. She hadn’t counted since they’d gotten the pastries and coffee.

What a funny thing—while David was talking, the whispers were quiet and she wasn’t
counting.

How could his voice silence whispers that she hadn’t been able to quiet her whole life?

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Chapter Four

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with me to the station?” David asked, while

waiting for Ralph to return with his car.

“I’m sure. I’m going to be brave and go inside for a while. Maybe take a swim.” She

thought of him in the pool the other night. “You could always drop this and go with me
to the pool.”

“Alex is expecting me. I called him earlier so he’s pulling the files.”
“Isn’t there some kind of protocol? Don’t you have to be in law enforcement to see

those?”

“I don’t really know. He’s doing this as a favor because Paul’s out of town. The

investigators Paul hired already went through the protocols. Basically, he’s just
showing me what’s in the file Paul would give us if he were here. I’ll ask about those
men who looked different to you on the page.”

“Don’t tell him why you’re singling them out.”
“I’m sure he’ll ask, Tara.”
He was right. They would ask. “Try to keep me out of it, if you can.”
“I’ll try. You know, this would be so much easier if you’d listen to what those

whispers are trying to tell you and stop fighting them so much.” He rubbed her upper
arm with his palm.

“I just can’t.” She gazed into eyes that were filled with concern. “You don’t

understand.”

“So explain it to me. Who died when you listened to the whispers?”
“Not now, okay?” She looked around the valet area to see if anyone had overheard.
“If you change your mind, and you need my help, you know how to reach me.”
“I’ll knock on your door.”
“Store my cell number in your phone.”
Tara took out her phone. Once the number was programmed she dropped it back

into her purse and gave him her number in case he needed it.

Ralph pulled up with David’s Viper. Tara raised an eyebrow as she studied the

black metallic paint. A flashy, expensive car that would impress the ladies. Nope,
definitely not the kind of man to settle down. As long as she could keep her own heart
in check, a fling with him would be fun.

“I’ll see you later,” David said.

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It was a statement, not a question. She kind of liked that. He leaned in and kissed

her, right in front of Ralph, and then climbed into the car. He waved as he pulled away
from the covered valet entrance.

“Well, well, got yourself a boyfriend, Tara?” Ralph grinned and patted her

shoulder. “I remember when Martha and I first fell in love. She looked at me just like
you’re looking at Mr. Blake.”

“She did?” Tara stared after him as he walked away chuckling.
Do I look like I’m in love? She didn’t feel in love—lust maybe, no, definitely lust—but

not love. She watched David’s car pull out into traffic before heading up the steps.

One, two, three…
Weird. They were back. What was it about David that kept the whispers quiet?

Maybe it was his strength or his charisma. Maybe it was because she was so intrigued
by him. That can’t be it. I’ve been intrigued by men in the past and the counting never stopped
before. Not like this.

She took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, wondering why buildings always

omitted the number thirteen. Maybe she’d do some research into that bit of trivia.
Despite trying to occupy her mind with random thoughts, a feeling of dread wrapped
itself around her.

Something isn’t right. She felt it as soon as she stepped out of the elevator. The

feeling grew the closer she got to her condo.

She put the key into the lock, opened the door and let the door swing open. She

looked around the room before stepping inside. Everything appeared normal.

Her imagination was working overtime again, that’s all. She went in, shut the door,

set her purse on the table and headed to the windows to see how many people were in
the pool.

Help me, Tara! The writing on the window stopped her cold.
The whispers became shouts in her mind.
Keep your cool. Don’t freak yet. Counting out loud she stepped closer. The words were

scrawled in the sea spray on the outside of the glass facing the pool. The section of
windows that didn’t have balcony access. Whoever had written them had written
backwards so that the words were legible from inside the condo.

Shit!
Tara ran from the window, grabbed her purse and yanked the door shut behind

her. With shaky hands she locked the door and then sprinted down the hall to the
elevator. She rapidly pressed the call button again and again.

I should have gone with David. This is getting way too freaky.
She took the phone from her purse and hit speed dial.
“Good morning Tara,” her mother said after the first ring.

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“Mom, can spirits write on windows?” She was talking way too loudly. The panic

inside was bursting loose.

“First you need to calm down. Focus like I taught you and then tell me what

happened.”

Tara took three deep breaths. Imagining her heartbeat slowing, she tried to calm

herself down. “It’s not working.”

“That’s okay, you’re doing fine. Now tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
She relayed the story to her mother. If anyone would know what was going on

here, she would. By the time Tara finished she was out of breath and the elevator still
hadn’t arrived.

“I knew this day would come.”
“What do you mean, Mom? What’s going to happen?”
“You have to claim your psychic gifts, Tara. I’ve been telling you to do it for years,

but you’ve always been so afraid. You must put the fear behind you.”

“I can’t do that.”
“You can and you must. It is your destiny to help Lisa into the light. By releasing

her and solving her murder, you will finally step into your own destiny. Fear isn’t part
of that destiny, honey. You have to stop fighting who and what you are. When you do
that the fear will disappear. It’s okay to be different, besides, aren’t you tired of
counting all the time?”

“I don’t even know that I’m doing it anymore.”
“Listen, Tara. There’s a whole world out there that will open up to you once you

stop fighting your abilities. Claim them, make them your own.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of—that world that you and Grammie are so accustomed

to.”

“It’s very rewarding to help spirits cross over or to use clairvoyance to give people

insight into their lives, rather than using it in guessing games. Helping people will
make you feel differently about your abilities. You just have to experience it to
understand. Blocking your abilities is only giving you a lot of stress.”

It didn’t surprise her that Mom knew that she’d used her clairvoyance in the

restaurant. “I just don’t know if I want this.”

“Honey, you don’t really have a choice. Psychic abilities have been in our family for

many, many generations. The Universe will guide you.”

Tara sighed. “Okay, Mom. Thanks for talking to me about it. I feel better. But you

didn’t answer my question. Can spirits write on windows?”

“I suppose if they wanted too they could. Oh, sweetie. I wish you’d called me

sooner. I hate that you’re so upset about this.”

“I’ll be fine.”

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“One more thing. This David you mentioned? You need to trust him. He’s not

going to hurt you like Leo did.”

“Stop playing matchmaker, Mom.”
“I’m just telling you that the two of you—”
“Mom!”
“Fine, fine. I just want to see you happy, Tara.”
“I know. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, honey.”
Tara said goodbye and hung up the phone. The sense of panic had subsided but she

still wanted to get off this floor.

Where is the stupid elevator?
She pressed the button and the door opened immediately. The thought that the

Universe had kept the doors closed until she finished her conversation crossed her
mind.

Ridiculous. Mom’s opinions about the paranormal stuff were starting to rub off on her.
Tara stepped inside and pressed the L button. While watching the round buttons

light up a brilliant white as the elevator passed each floor, she found her thoughts
turning to David. The happy glint in his eyes, the quick smile and boisterous laugh. He
was a man who lived life to the fullest. Maybe she should trust him and take him up on
the offer to practice her abilities with him. The elevator stopped at the lobby and the
doors slid open. A man stood in front of the doors. He looked like a bum—filthy, greasy
with long unwashed hair and torn stinky clothes. A slow smile spread across his face
revealing healthy, white and well-cared-for teeth.

Killer! Killer! Killer!
The voices in her head screamed so loud it hurt. And for the first time the whispers

weren’t mumbled. They’d been screamed clearly. She understood exactly what they
meant.

The man standing in front of her killed Lisa Cunningham.
Tara’s heart pounded, blood rushed through her veins and her breathing

quickened. Her feet were so heavy she couldn’t move. Frozen in fear, she stared at him.

“You all right, miss?” His voice sounded screechy and shrill. As if he’d made it

sound that way on purpose.

Beware! Beware!
The words propelled her forward. She ducked by him without answering. When

she heard the elevator close, Tara turned around from midway in the lobby. When she
saw that the man was no longer there, she ran back and watched the buttons across the
top of the doors light up until the elevator stopped on number fourteen.

Damn.

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Terror wound its way around her spine, snaking up her back until it reached

through and gripped her heart. As far as she knew there wasn’t any reason for that man
to be in the building, much less on the fourteenth floor. She and David were the only
residents.

She drew her attention away from the elevator and went into the management

office where Betsy sat in front of a computer. “Betsy, I need your help.”

“What’s wrong? You’re as white as a ghost.”
Not what I want to hear, thank you.
“I just passed a guy getting into the elevator who was in rags. He stinks and looks

like he hasn’t washed his hair in a couple of months. Do you have any idea who he is?”

“None at all.” Betsy picked up a two-way radio. “I’m calling security. He obviously

scared you. Did he say anything?”

“He said, ‘You all right, miss’?”
“Did you notice what floor he went too?”
“Mine.”
Betsy furrowed her brow and explained the situation to the building’s security staff.

Over the radio Tara heard them say they would check it out.

It didn’t make her feel any better.
“Have any other units on my floor sold?”
“No, you and David are the only two on that floor.”
“You have my cell number. Will you call me and let me know what security finds

out? It would make me feel more at ease.”

“Of course I will. It’s probably just someone off the street cooling off inside.

Security will escort him out.”

“You know, there was something odd about it.” Not counting what the voices said.

“His teeth didn’t look like the teeth of a homeless guy.”

“Strange. Okay, let me call security back and tell them that.”
“Thanks, Betsy. I’ll see you later.”
Tara hurried from the office to the main entry, digging in her purse for the cell

phone as she walked.

“Saw you coming.” Ralph jingled her car keys. “Be right back.”
Tara forced a smile she really didn’t feel. “Thanks, Ralph.”
Scrolling through the contact list on the phone she located David’s number and

placed the call.

“Hey, Tara,” he answered.
“Hi. Are you still at the police station?”
“Yes, I’m talking with Alex right now.”
“I’m on the way over. Can you meet me out front?”

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“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you on the steps.”
“Thanks, David.”
She flipped the phone shut, noticing that her hands were trembling. Why had that

man gone to her floor? And why had the whispers picked now to come through loud
and clear? If he really was the killer, maybe he knew that she’d gone with David to the
library.

She had to calm down.
Ralph pulled into the semicircle drive and parked her car. She met him as he

climbed out, thanked him and drove to the station.

* * * * *

“What happened? You sounded very upset on the phone.” David wrapped his arm

around her waist, drew her close and stared into her eyes. “You look pale.”

She stepped out of his embrace and told him about the writing on the window and

the man who went up to their floor.

“I’m sure security will find him and escort him out.”
“There’s something else.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “When I saw him, the

whispers that I always count to drown out, screamed in my head. They were crystal
clear, there was no denying what they said.”

“And that was?”
“They said, ‘Killer, killer, killer,’ and then when he spoke to me they said, ‘Beware,

beware’. I knew immediately that he was Lisa Cunningham’s killer.”

“Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this.” Her voice was low and strained. He didn’t believe her.

Why had she ever thought that he would? “I shouldn’t have come here.”

She turned to leave but David caught her arm. “I believe you.”
“You do?” She looked into his soft and concerned eyes and knew that he did.
“Yes, I really do.” He nodded. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
David held the door for her and led her down the hallway to a corner office. Behind

the desk an older man, a little on the heavy side, with gray hair and a comb-over,
flipped through a file. David introduced him as Alex Gradenton as they sat opposite
him.

“David was telling me that you said these two men stood out to you in these

pictures.” He handed her two pictures from the file. “Do they still look that way to
you?”

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“Yes. Who are they?” Tara laid the pictures on the desk so David and Alex

wouldn’t notice how badly her hands were still shaking.

Alex reached over to point at the man in the tropical shirt. “This is Pete Crane. He

dated Lisa in high school. The other one is Lisa’s ex-husband, Tim Cunningham.”

“Do either of these guys look like the man you saw today?” David asked.
Maybe. She wasn’t sure. He’d been so grimy and nasty. Neither man in the pictures

had been smiling. “I honestly don’t know. These guys are cleaned up. The man I saw
today wasn’t. Tim looks taller in the pictures. The guy I saw today could have been the
one you called Pete. I just can’t tell for sure. All I know is that one of these two men
killed Lisa.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” Alex asked. “And who did you see today?”
Tara glanced at David, who nodded. “There’s been a lot of strange things

happening since last night. It’s just a hunch I guess. I saw someone who looked like a
homeless man in our building today. He went to our floor.”

“The homeless take advantage of air-conditioned buildings when they can,

especially in South Florida. More than likely he’s harmless.” Alex returned the pictures
to the file. “So you had a hunch. Not much I can do with that. I’ve had a hunch that one
of these two is the murderer going on five years now. I can’t pin it on either one without
some kind of evidence.”

“Tell him, Tara.” David said.
“I…I can’t.”
“Tell me what? If you know something that will help this case and are withholding

information…”

“It’s nothing like that.” Maybe Mom was right. Maybe if she claimed the gifts, the

fear would go away. And the only way to claim them was to admit that they were part
of her. Tara rubbed her forehead.

“Miss Simms, is there something you need to tell me?”
“You’ll probably throw me out of your office if I do.”
“Try me and see.” Alex leaned back and crossed his arms. “You might be

surprised.”

His eyes were steel. Professional, hard and just a little bit annoyed.
“My grandmother is Lena Parker.”
“The psychic?”
Tara nodded. “My mother is Julie Meadows.”
“Good lord. You’re telling me that you’re a third generation psychic?”
“No, I’m more generations than that.” Tara stood to leave. “I’ll show myself out.”
“Sit back down, Miss Simms. I want to know everything you know.”

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Tara told him. From counting to drown out the whispers, to seeing the ghost, the

writing on the window and the voices screaming at her that the man at the elevator was
the killer.

Alex sat there for a long moment and then stood to go look out of the window.

“You know, stranger things have happened in Miami. We’ve worked with psychics in
the past. Do you think that you could help us track down this killer using your
abilities?”

Tara laughed. “There’s not a chance in hell. I don’t even know how to use them.

I’ve been blocking them my whole life because I was so afraid. You can’t expect me to
track down a killer with them. For that you need Grammie or Mom. I just don’t have
the experience.”

“But the spirit is appearing to you,” Alex said.
“Once. I’ve seen her one time.”
“And you’ve seen her cry out for help with the writing on your window.” Alex

went to his desk, flipped through the file and took out a picture. He looked from it to
Tara and cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to show you this but I don’t seem to have a
choice now. If the man you saw in the elevator is indeed Lisa’s killer, you may be in
serious danger.”

“Why ?” David asked.
“This is Lisa Cunningham.” Alex turned the picture around so they could see it.
Tara gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Let me see it.” David took the picture from Alex and looked from it to Tara. “My

God, they could be twins.”

“No…no…” Tara choked on the words. The clairvoyant images flooded her mind.

Thoughts, bits and pieces of Lisa’s life, an argument. She saw Lisa screaming at
someone, but she couldn’t see who it was. Then Lisa was on the phone, her back to the
door. A shot fired. “Oh God, he shot her in the back.”

“We never released that to the media,” Alex said.
“He thinks I’m her. What have I done? Damn it. Stop! I don’t want to see these

things.” Tara rubbed at her temples with her head bent toward her knees.

“It’s okay, Tara. I’m here for you.” David knelt in front of her chair. “Hey, look at

me, baby. Look at me.”

He moved her hands away from her head. Tears ran down her face.
“He’s coming for me,” she whispered.

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Chapter Five

“No one is coming for you.” David wiped the tears from Tara’s face. “I’ll protect

you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I don’t understand how this stuff works,” Alex said, “but there’s not much I can

do just based on a vision.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said, standing. “I’m okay. I don’t need protection. I was just

overwhelmed with impressions. I’ve never acknowledged my abilities before and well,
it was a little too much all at once.”

David stood beside her, holding her hand. She wasn’t okay, regardless of what she

said. Her body shook. He could feel it all the way through her fingertips. Whatever
she’d seen had really rattled her.

“If we’re done here, I’d really like to go.” Tara reached out to shake Alex’s hand. “It

was nice meeting you.”

“Keep in touch, David. Let me know if any new evidence surfaces. I’ll talk to the

Chief.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” He led Tara from the building to her car. She didn’t say a

word the entire way. “Are you okay to drive? We can leave your car here and pick it up
later.”

“No, we’re only five minutes away. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll follow you.”
David watched her as they drove back to Paradise Designs. She must be a nervous

wreck. She glanced back at him quite often to see if he was still there. Or, maybe that
was just the way she drove. If she was in danger, he needed to keep her close. He liked
the idea of having her around all the time. Now that she’d opened herself up to the
psychic gifts, maybe he could convince her to practice with him. They could develop
their abilities together. Not that he really had any, but he’d always wanted to try.

At Paradise Designs, he turned off the car and went to help her, just in case she was

still shaky. Another resident waited for his car to be brought around, so he took both
sets of keys and dropped them through a small window in the valet booth as per
Paradise Design’s rules. They didn’t want a car to be stolen because it was left with the
keys inside. Until more units sold, there was only one person running cars per shift.

“Still shaky?” He took Tara’s hand when she nodded, leading her into the building.

“I saw you looking back to make sure I was still there.”

“I can take care of myself, David. I wasn’t worried that you’d left.”
“Then why did you keep looking back? Is that the way you drive?”

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“You look very striking in that car.” She grinned. “With the top down, those dark

shades and you’re not exactly ugly. Didn’t you even notice how many heads you were
turning?”

He hadn’t. His sole concentration had been on Tara.
“I guess not. But if I turned your head then I’m a happy man.”
The glint in her eyes and the shy smile told him that she’d been checking him out.

He stopped in front of the elevator as Betsy exited the office.

“Hey you two.” She pressed the call button. “We found that man wandering

around on your floor. He seemed harmless so security escorted him out. He said he’d
come inside to cool down.”

“So why go up into the condos?” Tara asked. “Why not just hang out down here in

the lobby or library?”

“I don’t know.” Betsy shrugged. “We might have to put some different kind of

security measures in place.”

David followed them into the elevator. Betsy pushed their floor numbers. “I’m

showing a unit in an hour. I hope it sells. We’ve got to get this place hopping.”

The elevator opened and Betsy stepped out.
“Good. Let me know how it goes.” David leaned against the wall as the doors shut

again. Tara was quiet, distant. “Do you want to make those sugar kisses today? It’ll take
your mind off everything.”

Her smile lit up the small space. David decided that he wanted to put that smile on

her face forever. How he’d fallen for her so fast was a mystery but somehow, Tara
Simms had captured his heart.

“I think I’ll pass. I’ve decided to move into a hotel until I can find a new place to

live. I just need to pack up my clothes and a few other necessities.”

“Now, hold on. You can’t leave, not when I’ve just found you.”
“Excuse me?”
“What I mean is…” What did he mean? Exactly what he’d said but it was too soon

for her. “You can’t leave yet. You need to be here in the building, not in some hotel.
Now that you’ve connected with your abilities, you could practice with me. I’ve always
wanted to learn how to develop mine.”

“You think I could teach you?” Tara laughed out loud. “The truth is, I’m too afraid

to stay here.”

“A hotel will be expensive.”
“I have savings.”
“What if the spirit wants to make contact again?” David unlocked his front door.

“Will you come inside for a while? If you’re set on leaving then I’ll support you in that,
just talk to me for a while.”

“Since you put on the puppy dog eyes, I guess I could talk to you for a little while.”

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She brushed against him as she entered. Suddenly all he could think about was the

way her hips swayed when she walked to the balcony windows.

“You know, tonight’s a full moon.”
“So? Do you turn into a werewolf or something? It would be fitting the way my

weekend is going.”

“No werewolf blood here.” He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms

around her waist. “I really wish you’d reconsider. You could always stay here instead
of in your condo.”

“What kind of girl do you take me for?” She turned in his arms and then pushed

back a little. “I’m not easy if that’s what you’re after. I’m really not in the mood to be
your latest conquest.”

This is not going well. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m

serious. I’ll sleep on the couch for as long as you’re here. I just want to get to know you
better and help you solve this spirit problem.”

“Sorry. I though you were being a player. I overreacted.”
“So you’ll stay?” David drew her closer. The tenseness eased in her body and she

molded into his embrace.

“Yeah, I’ll stay. But I’ll stay in my condo. I’m not going to inconvenience you

because I’m a scaredy-cat. You’ll be right here if I need you.”

“I want you to need me.” He kissed the top of her head and then the bend of her

neck. Her pulse raced against his lips, bringing a smile to his face.

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to seduce me.”
“I’m not. See?” He backed away, releasing her and held his hands up in surrender.

“I have an idea. I think, with tonight being a full moon, we should have a séance. Let’s
try to get Lisa to appear and then we can just ask her who the killer was.”

Tara frowned and furrowed her brows. “Um…no. I want no part of any kind of

séance. And you shouldn’t either. Isn’t it bad enough that she’s just showing up on her
own? Who knows who you’ll call up doing that.”

“Isn’t that what psychics do when they need answers from the spirit realm?”
“Not in my family.”
“It would still be fun to try. If you don’t want to I can do it by myself right?”
“Absolutely not.” Tara strode to the door. “I’m going home, taking a shower and

then I’m going for a walk on the beach. Water always relaxes me.”

“I’m coming with you.” David caught the door when she opened it. She turned and

looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “I want to see the writing on your window.”

“Ohh… As long as you aren’t invading my shower.” Tara chuckled. “Come on

then. If it’s not there you’ll really think I’m off my rocker.”

Now that was an idea. Tara…shower…
Inside her condo, the writing was still on the window.

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“Did you take pictures?” He pulled out his cell phone and aimed it at the window

pane.

“I didn’t even think about it. I ran like hell.”
“It’s not showing up. Weird.” He looked at the captured photo and took another

shot.

“Par for the course. At least you see it too, so I’m not totally bonkers.” Tara guided

him from the window toward the door. “I think I’ll feel better after a long shower. The
hot water running over my naked body will calm my nerves. After that, if you’d like to
join me for a dip in the pool—”

“That’s one heck of an image, Tara.”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “Just thought I’d give you something to think about. Now go

home. I’m fine.”

“Come over when you’re ready for the pool.”
“I will.” She closed the door and locked it.
As much as he wanted to protect her, so far the threat wasn’t in the physical realm,

but only in her mind and the visions she’d seen. He understood her need for privacy.
She’d dealt with the whispers a long time so she’d know how to cope now too. David
went home and changed into swimming trunks, a sleeveless muscle shirt and beach
shoes.

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the walls.
“Oh my God, Tara!” He ran from his condo to hers and banged on the door. “Tara!

Let me in!”

Backing up to the opposite side of the hall he ran and threw himself against the

door, bursting it open. Flimsy piece of junk.

“Tara! Where are you?”
He moved through the condo, looking into each room. The door to her bedroom

was open, the clothes she’d worn thrown across the made bed.

“Tara?” he said, his voice slightly above a whisper.
He looked into her open closet and then at the bathroom door, opened a crack. He

slowly pushed it open, unsure of what he’d find. His heart pounded, the shirt stuck to
his sweaty skin.

Tara stood in a corner, wrapped in a towel, her dark hair flowing around her

shoulders. She counted through labored and uneven breaths. Her whole body shook.

“What happened, Tara? Are you all right?” It was a stupid question. Anyone

looking at her could tell there was something very wrong with her.

David opened the door all of the way. The mirror came into view. Across it, written

in what looked like blood, were the words, I’m watching you, Tara.

“Oh shit!” David went inside, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He

sat her in the chair, took his phone from his pocket and called Alex.

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“Gradenton,” he answered.
“Alex, it’s David. We’ve got a problem. I need you to send some officers over here.

You should come with them.”

Tara stood and walked over to her dresser, seemingly oblivious that he was even

standing in the room. She took out a pink G-string, dropped the towel and stepped into
it. She walked over to her closet, her bare breasts, full and round, bouncing with each
step.

“What’s going on?” Alex asked.
“I…I…” Can’t concentrate. Her firm naked body was a complete distraction.
“David? What in the hell is going on?”
“Sorry. I think Lisa Cunningham’s murderer is after Tara. Someone wrote ‘I’m

watching you, Tara’ across her bathroom mirror in what looks like blood.”

“We’ll be right there.”
David flipped the phone shut, watching her choose a sundress and pull it over her

head. He stood beside the king-sized bed and all he could think about was yanking that
sundress back off and ravishing her from head to toe. His body reacted with an erection
that was becoming a bit painful, trapped in the lining of his swim trunks.

David cleared his throat. Startled, Tara spun around to face him. Her cheeks turned

bright pink and eyes widened as she realized that he’d been standing there the whole
time.

“I thought… I thought you went into the living room,” she stammered. Her brows

knitted together and she frowned. “I’m sorry. I was so lost in my own thoughts. I
wouldn’t have changed in front of you…” She glanced down his body, pausing at his
swim trunks. Her eyes widened when she saw his erection. “I forgot we were going
swimming. Let me get my suit on.”

She’s denying that her life is in danger, David thought. “Tara, we’re not going

swimming right now.” He took her hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I was getting ready.” She choked back the tears. “The writing on the mirror. Oh

God, David. It wasn’t Lisa this time. That man I saw this morning. He had to have been
the one who wrote it. He was in here.”

“The police are on their way. They’ll find him. You might be in shock.”
“It scared the hell out of me. But I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
“That you are.” David trailed his fingertips along the side of her jaw. “You’re

making not seducing you, really hard to do.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to tease you.”
“I know.” He bent to kiss her. “That’s what makes you so damn hot.”
A loud knock rapped against the door frame. David laid his forehead against hers.

“We’ll save this for later.”

“David?” Alex called out.

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“Back here.” He went to the doorway and motioned them toward the bedroom.

“It’s in the master bath.”

“Have you touched anything?” Alex asked.
“I’ve only touched Tara, to bring her out of the bathroom. She was over here for

about ten minutes before I heard her scream.”

“I’m going to ask the two of you to clear out. You can wait in the hall if you’d like.

We’ll need to check for fingerprints or other evidence.”

Tara headed down the hall toward the living room.
“Is that blood?” David whispered.
“Hard to tell.” Alex spoke in a hushed tone and walked closer to the mirror. “It

might be or it might be costume blood like the kids use at Halloween. It doesn’t smell
like blood so the fake stuff would be my first guess. How’d the door get broken down?”

“I did that. Her scream was the most terrifying thing I’ve heard in a long time. I

broke it down trying to get to her.”

An officer came into the bathroom to take a sample of the red stuff for lab analysis.
“Let’s get out of here so he can work.” Alex said. “I want to talk to Tara.”
David led the way to the living room. “I need to make a call to get this door fixed.

I’ll be back inside in a few minutes.”

* * * * *

“I need to get your statement, Tara.” Alex said.
“It’s very simple. David and I came in, I showed him the writing on the window, he

took a couple of pictures, and we agreed to meet for a swim after I took a shower to
calm my nerves. I went into my room, undressed, wrapped a towel around me and saw
that bloody writing on the mirror when I walked inside to turn on the shower. I
screamed and the next thing I know David’s here and then you guys.”

Alex scribbled more notes and then called to an officer to take pictures of the

writing. “I wonder how he got out there to do this?”

“He didn’t.” Tara said. “Lisa Cunningham’s ghost did that.”
Alex eyed her.
“The door people will be here in about twenty minutes.” David said, returning

from the hallway. “I paid them triple to get out here now to do both of our doors with
something much sturdier and secure than that plywood.”

“Tara, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” Alex put his pen and

paper into his pocket. “I also want to put you under police protection but I don’t have
extra officers. There’s a security company—”

“No way is a stranger protecting her. She stays with me and I’ll report in to you.”

David wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “She’ll be able to go inside her condo to get
stuff right?”

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“Once we’re finished here, yes. But that may take a while.”
“Don’t I get a say in all of this?” Tara moved out from under David’s arm. “I mean,

I was just fine before I met you, David. I’m not a fairy-tale princess in need of rescuing. I
may be afraid of the whispers and of all these weird things going on, but it’s not like I
haven’t dealt with them before. What if I want to stay here? Could I?”

“Sure you could.” Alex shoved his hands in his pockets then rocked back on his

heels. “But do you really want to stay here all alone, at night, after everything that’s
been going on?”

Tara glanced between both men. “No. But I don’t want you two determining my

fate either. Don’t act like I’m not here.”

“So what do you want to do?” David asked.
“I’m on vacation for the holidays. I could go over to Mom’s early.”
“Or you could stay with me,” David suggested.
“It might be good to spend a little time with her and Grammie other than just

Christmas Day. Maybe they could help me understand what’s happening better.”

“Or you could call them and ask those same questions while you stay with me.”
Tara looked at Alex. “Do you think he wants me to stay with him?”
“Sure seems that way,” Alex chuckled.
“Okay, David. You’re twisting my arm. I’ll stay with you but only because I’ll be

close to home if I need something.”

* * * * *

Night came much too quickly. Three hours after the police arrived they’d gone

through every inch of Tara’s condo looking for fingerprints and other evidence.

And found nothing.
Alex was hopeful that the lab analysis would yield better results.
The whole situation was very disturbing. The whispers mumbled over her constant

counting, keeping her on edge. David had cooked hamburgers for dinner and was
washing the dishes, refusing her help.

So here she sat, staring at the moonlight spilling across the black ocean. Listening to

him rinsing and putting plates and silverware in the dishwasher, she focused hard on
the whispers, trying to bring them into focus, to hear them clearly. The noises from the
kitchen stopped. Moments later David walked over to the bar.

“Do you want a glass of wine?”
“I’ll take white if you have it.”
He poured two glasses, handed her one and sat beside her on the couch. “How are

you feeling?”

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“Exhausted. The whispers won’t stop and I can’t understand them.” She sipped the

wine. “This is good.”

“Have you tried relaxing and concentrating on them?”
“Yes. Nothing’s working. All I can make out are the words ‘betrayal’ and ‘lies’,

which went along with the scenes that bombarded me in the police station.”

“You never told me what you saw in those visions.”
“Lisa arguing with someone, but I couldn’t see who. Then I saw her talking on the

phone when she was shot in the back. I think that Lisa knew who killed her. If someone
lied and betrayed her that would give motive.”

“I’m sure the police checked out anyone she’d had problems with before her death.

You should forget about all of it for the rest of the night. Today the whispers came
through loud and clear when the message was urgent.” He rubbed her thigh with his
palm. “You need to relax. Want to go for that swim we missed earlier?”

“I’d rather sit here with you.” She leaned closer and he wrapped his arm around

her shoulder. “Thank you, David. You’ve been great even though we’re practically
strangers.”

He set the wineglass on the coffee table and faced her. “That is something I

definitely want to change.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t dare get her hopes too high. David was fun-loving, exciting, and

caring. He was also drop-dead gorgeous. He exemplified everything she’d ever hoped
to find in a man.

How’d I ever get so lucky?
“Where were we this afternoon when the police arrived?” He leaned in to kiss her.

Tara saw a flash in her peripheral vision and glanced toward the balcony. “Oh God. Oh
God.”

“Now there’s a first. I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“Don’t move. Look very slowly toward the balcony and please, please, please tell

me that you see her.”

“The ghost?”
“Yes. Lisa is walking along the balcony.”
David turned his head slightly to look. “I can’t see her. What’s she doing?”
“Just moving slowly along the balcony with her head down. Oh shit!” Tara clung to

David, nearly spilling her wine. He took the glass from her and set it beside his.

“What happened? Is she gone?”
Tara was trembling and had buried her face in his shoulder. Dammit. He hadn’t

seen anything. And he’d really wanted too. He pulled away from her so he could look
into her eyes. What he saw there was sheer terror. “What happened? Tara talk to me.”

“She looked at me and said, ‘Help me, Tara’.”

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That would even frazzle him. “I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to

you.” He held her, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words, until the
trembling stopped.

Twenty minutes later she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
David picked her up and carried her to his bed. She woke up when he laid her

down. “You’re really tired. You should try to sleep. I’ll be in the living room.”

“Please stay with me. I just want to put on my pajamas. You should too.” She took a

large silky shirt from the bag she’d brought over earlier.

“Let me turn off the lights. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the hall to give

her a few moments of privacy to change and prepare for bed. When he came back, she
was under the covers.

He got a pair of shorts and t-shirt out of the chest of drawers and went into the

bathroom. A few minutes later, he went into the closet for a blanket.

“What’s that for? The comforter is warm enough without it.”
“I’m going to sleep on the floor.”
“I’d feel much safer if you slept in the bed with me.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice. He turned off the bathroom light.
“Can you leave that one on with the door almost closed?”
“Sure.” He climbed under the covers beside her.
“I’m not afraid of the dark. I just sleep better with a light on.”
“I understand.” He drew her to him, and putting one arm underneath her shoulder,

he cradled her next to him. “Goodnight, Tara.”

How could she sleep now? With the hard planes of his body pressed close to her, all

Tara could think about were his sensuous kisses. The warmth of his lips teasing her
mouth open, delving deeper until she was lost in him. She wanted to feel those lips
now, on every part of her body. She thought of the way he’d looked at her earlier after
seeing her naked. His eyes had burned with desire. The same desire igniting her body
now. She snuggled closer, laying her arm across his broad chest. She heard his heartbeat
pounding through his veins, yet he didn’t make a move to seduce her.

She’d invited him to the bed. She wouldn’t instigate intimacy with him. Lying in his

arms, the whispers disappeared, leaving a calmness that she hadn’t known existed.

For once she was safe and secure. He made her feel stronger, as if she could do

anything, with his belief in her and her psychic abilities. It was a gift that he didn’t even
know he’d given her. With David at her side, maybe she could face the psychic part of
herself without fear and help Lisa.

If she were looking for a long-term relationship, David would be her perfect man,

even knowing him such a short time. But then again, she wasn’t looking.

Or am I?

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Snuggling closer, and despite the desire coursing through her, Tara drifted off to

sleep in his arms.

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Chapter Six

Tara couldn’t remember ever sleeping so soundly. Or so late. The alarm clock

beside David’s bed couldn’t be right. She’d never slept until one in the afternoon in her
life. She was up by six every morning for a run, then to work by nine.

Where’s David?
If he was still in bed, he wasn’t touching her. In fact, he hadn’t touched her all night

other than to hold her. She’d woken on her side so she rolled over and found herself
alone in the bed.

She missed him already.
How pathetic is that? Come on, Tara.
Maybe it was because she’d been celibate for so long. Sex would probably

straighten her out. Then again, it might make her feelings for him run deeper. If she
admitted it, she knew that he’d touched her on a soul level. He understood her and still
wanted to know more. He wasn’t even afraid of the psychic stuff that scared her half to
death. Instead he was intrigued by it. Somehow his being with her had silenced the
whispers.

They were still quiet.
She stretched and climbed out of bed to search for him. On the dining room table

she found a note.

Alex called me down to the station. Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen.

You’re locked in, security is guarding the door. You’re safe inside. Don’t leave. I’ll be home as
soon as I can. David

Well, this gave her a chance to take a shower before he got back.
Did he really put security outside?
She looked out of the peephole and saw the armed guard. A smile spread across her

face.

Tara got ready for the day, or what was left of it, and made some toast and coffee.

After she ate and washed the cup and plate, she telephoned her mother and
grandmother on a three-way call.

“It’s about time you claimed your gifts,” Grammie said. “It’s so nice of that young

man to protect you with an armed guard.”

“Please stop reading me, Grammie. I need to ask you some questions. Besides, I

don’t know that I have claimed anything yet.”

“You focused didn’t you?” Mom asked. “You made a concentrated effort to tune

into what you were hearing and understand instead of blocking it out, right?”

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“You mean that’s all there is to claiming your abilities? Trying to understand and

use them?”

“That’s it. The more you use them, the easier it will be for you to understand.”

Grammie cleared her throat. “We tried to explain this to you years ago but you were so
stubborn you wouldn’t listen.”

“Mom, she just wasn’t ready then. Listen to me Tara, you have to go at your own

pace. Developing your full potential will take time and practice. I’m just so happy that
you’ve finally opened yourself up to your gifts.”

“If all this is true, then I have a problem.”
“We’ll help you,” they both said at the same time.
Tara laughed. So, not being normal was normal in her family. She suddenly

wondered why she’d taken so long to join them.

“You weren’t ready,” Grammie said.
Yes, this was the normalcy she knew.
“So, how do I help Lisa? I know I’m supposed to but I don’t know how. I have a

funny feeling that something is going to happen tomorrow night. This Christmas Eve is
the four-year anniversary of her death.”

“How are you seeing her?” Mom asked. “In your mind’s eye?”
“No, I see her walking around. Or floating. Or drifting. Whatever it is that ghosts

do. I saw her go right through my front door when it was shut.”

“She’s physically manifesting to you,” Mom said. “The next time you see her, you

need to look at her and ask how you can help. Don’t be afraid of her because she’s not
going to harm you.”

“You’re supposed to help her go into the light,” Grammie said.
“How do I do that?”
“There’s a vital piece of information that the police don’t have. Something that she

can tell you that will help them solve this case. You must be careful though because the
killer is nearby. He’s mentally unstable.” Grammie paused in her reading. “Look to
your left.”

Tara turned on the couch to look toward the kitchen. Lisa stood in the foyer, her

hands clasped together in front of her, waiting. Tara’s pulse raced, the whispers
returned and she automatically started counting in her head.

“Don’t panic, Tara. Take a deep breath. She needs to tell you something.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Ask her how you can help her,” Mom said. “Just think it.”
What can I do to help you, Lisa?
The gun is in a locked wooden box on the shelf in a spare bedroom at his house. If the police

find the gun, they’ll be able to arrest him.

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She heard the voice as clearly as her own thought. “Are you supposed to hear the

answer in your mind?”

“You’re using clairaudience right now,” Grammie said. “What did she say?”
“She told me the gun is in his house.”
“Did she give you a street name?” Mom asked. “Any way to identify where the

house is? Ask her the killer’s name.”

What is his name? Where is his house?
Look for clovers.
Lisa smiled and faded away.
“She’s gone.” Tara blew out a deep breath. The trembling started in her hands. Soon

she was shaking.

“Tara? Are you okay?
Her mom’s voice brought her back to the telephone conversation. “I think. I don’t

know.”

“You have to go to the police and tell them what happened.”
“Grammie, they’ll think I’ve lost my mind.” She surely did. This was uncharted

territory for her. Strange. Unsettling.

“Did she say anything else?” Mom asked.
“She told me to look for clovers when I asked his name or where the house was

located. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’ve found, in my work as a medium, that the spirit world often gives cryptic

messages,” Mom said. “It could be that the name of a street or subdivision has the word
clover in it. You’ll have to figure it out.”

Tara sighed.
“You did great, sweetie. For your first time.” Tara could almost see the smile on

Grammie’s face by her tone of voice.

“This really isn’t fun. I don’t like being this way.”
“But it’s your gift, Tara,” Mom said. “You’ll become more accustomed to using

your abilities with time.”

“I guess. Thank you both. I wouldn’t have known what to do without you. I’m

going to call David and tell him.”

“He’ll be there in a few minutes, no need to call,” Grammie chuckled. “Now, the

two of you—that’s another matter we need to discuss.”

“Not now, Grammie.”
Tara heard voices outside the door. “I think he’s here. I’ll talk to both of you later.

Thanks again.”

“That’s what families are for, sweetie,” Mom said.

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Tara said her goodbyes. She flipped the phone shut just as the key turned in the

lock. David held a black shopping bag that he put in a kitchen cabinet. He was dressed
in a pair of navy slacks and a white collared shirt open at the neck. Instant warmth
swept through her when he smiled.

“How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have in a long time. What did Alex say?”
He joined her on the couch. “The lab results confirmed that the substance used to

write on your mirror was fake red blood that could be bought at any store that sells
Halloween stuff. Which isn’t very helpful. I really wish we had more to go on. I don’t
like that someone was in your home.”

“We might have more. Alex will really think I’m nuts but I don’t have a choice in

this any longer.”

Tara told him about waking up to silence in her head instead of the usual whispers,

the conversation with her family and Lisa appearing with a message.

“You’re right. Alex needs to know this. Do you want me to tell him?”
“If you want. Or I can tell him.”
David made the call and relayed all of the information to Alex. When he hung up,

he eyed Tara. “Do you want to tell me why you would never listen to the whispers
before now?”

The time was right, she trusted him. “The whispers started when I was five. I was in

kindergarten and I would hear things like, ‘Be careful’, or ‘Don’t do that’. They were
mostly warnings that helped me stay out of trouble. I was in the same class as my next-
door neighbor and best friend Linda. One day we were playing on the jungle gym when
I heard a voice say, ‘Tell Linda not to go ride in the red van or she’ll die’. I told her what
I heard and she told her mom who complained to my mom. They didn’t own a red van
and I’d scared Linda so I got in a lot of trouble. A couple of months later, both Linda
and her mom were killed when a tractor trailer hit them head-on. They were driving a
rental because their car had broken down. It was a red van. After that I swore I’d never
listen to the whispers again. I didn’t want to know that people were going to die. I’ve
been pretty successful at blocking them over the years but now it seems like I’m at a
crossroads where I have to accept my abilities. Now you know.”

David held her hand, gently stroking her palm. “Thank you for telling me. I

understand why you would push them back now. It must have been so difficult for you
to lose your best friend at such a young age.”

“It was. I still miss her sometimes. I know that sounds stupid but we had a unique

bond, like twins would have.”

“I think, after all that you’ve been through that you should have something special

today. How about a spa treatment downstairs? I’ll pay.”

“That’s sweet of you but I don’t do spas. Not that kind anyway. Besides, I’m

worried about tomorrow.”

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“Why? Because it’s Christmas Eve?”
“It’s the anniversary of Lisa’s death. I just have this strange feeling that something

else is going to happen.”

“A psychic impression?” He toyed with a tendril of her hair.
“I’m not even sure what a psychic impression feels like yet.” She gazed at him,

studying his features. The mold must have broken… She pushed the thought aside.
There were bigger things going on than the way David made her feel. “What if the
Lisa’s killer wrote that message on my mirror? What if I am next?”

“You’re not next. I’m protecting you, remember? What time is it?” He pressed the

button to light up the phone’s screen. “Three thirty. You need a diversion. Let’s go
shopping.”

Tara burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. Never in her life had a guy actually

wanted to go shopping with her. “You’re kidding right?”

“Not at all. We’ll grab dinner while we’re out and plan what we’re going to do for

Christmas.”

“You want to spend Christmas with me?”
“Do you have plans?”
“My Mom is cooking Christmas dinner. My family will be there.”
“Oh. I’m sure you’ll be safe with them.”
Tara saw the disappointment on his face, evident in his voice. “Mom always cooks

enough for an army. You could go with me.”

His smile was quick. “I’d love too. Now, come on. The mall awaits.”
Outside he paused. “I forgot something. Talk to Arnie for a few minutes. I’ll be

right out.”

* * * * *

She hadn’t listened.
The bitch.
Why hadn’t she heeded his warning? You’d think that words written in blood

would scare her into submission. She knew his word was law. There was no escaping
his wrath.

She’d tried once before.
And failed.
Didn’t she remember how he’d hurt her? How he’d made her pay? There would no

second chances. No new beginnings for her.

But here she was, walking around Bayside, looking at the pretty baubles, like

nothing had ever happened.

Like they had never happened.

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She was laughing and having fun with some man she probably picked up in a bar

during a drunken night out with the girls.

Only he was allowed to do things like that.
He watched the man’s hand caress her arm before he leaned in to give her a

lingering kiss.

Who did she think she was, kissing another man right in front of him?
She’d made his life miserable. She never should have questioned his actions. He

was the man in their relationship. And men had the right to do whatever they wanted
when it came to relationships. He’d only followed his father’s example when he’d
brought other women into their bed. She couldn’t change him. No one could because he
didn’t want to change. He wouldn’t give her the exclusivity she demanded.

He followed at a safe distance. Watching and waiting.
Anger stormed through him when the man wrapped his arm protectively around

her shoulders.

Who is this guy anyway? Does he think he can throw himself all over my woman?
Did she think she’d found love? With someone else?
From the way she looked at him that’s exactly what she thought.
Wrong again, bitch. Not if I have anything to do with it.
Just like she’d been wrong before when she thought he’d never do anything to hurt

her. Payback was hell.

Why she’d come back he didn’t know and couldn’t begin to understand. He would

make damn sure that Christmas Eve would never be the same for her again after this
year. She’d never disobey him again.

He followed them to the bay. They sat near the dock and ordered cheeseburgers

and beer. She was drinking now? He’d forbidden her to drink.

That’s okay. Just wait for our Christmas present. This year it wouldn’t be that ring

she so desperately wanted.

He ordered a beer and cheese fries. He played the images of a previous Christmas

Eve over and over in his mind. He smiled at the memories.

He watched the other man holding her hand playing with her fingers, kissing each

tip. Suddenly the other man looked around, seeming nervous and stared right into his
eyes.

Damn. He quickly looked away and turned his back toward the couple.
The waitress arrived and set his order on the table. He handed her a fifty. “Keep the

change.”

He glanced back to the couple he’d been watching. Anger rose from deep inside

him when the other man slid his arm around the woman’s back and drew her close to
kiss her. Her eyes closed as she kissed him back.

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Enough! You must obey me. You are mine and no one else will ever have you. Don’t you

understand?

She jerked away and looked around, frantically searching the crowd.
He chuckled and then took a long draught of the beer. Getting edgy aren’t you? I told

you I was watching you.

Their food arrived and he snacked on the cheese fries while they had dinner. He

watched their every movement, wishing he was close enough to hear what they were
saying. That would have been too risky. He didn’t want her to see him.

Not yet.
Not until it was time to punish her.
She must be punished.

* * * * *

Tara placed her shopping bags on David’s dining room table. She’d picked up a

couple of last-minute gifts for her family and had them wrapped at the mall. David had
tried to buy her gifts but she refused. They’d even looked at jewelry, including
engagement rings, men’s rings and watches while discussing the clarity of diamonds.
The manager offered David a job which he turned down.

“This was a fun afternoon. Thanks for getting my mind off everything.”
She glanced at the balcony. Thankfully it was spirit-free.
“The day isn’t over yet. Close your eyes.”
“What are you up too?” She did and he led her down the hall, putting his hand

over her eyes so she couldn’t peek.

He removed his hand. She opened her eyes wide when his lips touched hers.
“I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon,” he mumbled against her mouth.
He kissed her thoroughly, drawing her close against him. When he stopped he

looked up.

Tara realized they were standing in the doorframe of the bathroom. She followed

his gaze and saw mistletoe taped to the wood. “Since you went to the trouble to hang
that there, I guess I can give you more.”

She gave him a long lingering kiss. Her body was already heating up, thoughts of

making love to him filled her mind. She ended the kiss and looked up at him. His eyes
were dark with desire, matching the needs of her body.

“And if I asked for even more?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He tugged her against him for another kiss filled with urgent need. She lost herself

in the feel of his tongue delving deeper, his strong hands lifting her shirt to caress her
breasts. Sensations overwhelmed her as she struggled to get closer to him. She

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unbuttoned David’s shirt to touch his flesh. His skin was hot and hard underneath her
fingertips. Grazing her fingernails over his nipples she felt them harden with her touch.

David tugged the shirt over her head. She needed to feel flesh on flesh so she

reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. As it dropped to the floor she pressed her
breasts to his chest. The feel of her soft skin against his hard planes sent streaks of fire
between her thighs, dampening her panties.

He kissed down her neck and groaned when he took her nipple into his mouth. His

tongue was hot and wet as it flickered over the hardened nub.

“Oh yes. I think you will make me lose all control,” she murmured in his ear.
David stood up and kissed her. In the distance she heard the sound of water

running. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

The next thing she knew, warm water splashed against her back. She wasn’t sure

when they’d discarded their clothes, it didn’t really matter. She needed this.

She needed him.
When he kissed her neck she tilted her head back into the warm spray of the

shower and saw mistletoe taped to the light above.

David pressed her against the wall, his lips trailing along the flesh of her neck.

Lifting her legs one at a time he placed them over his knees and positioned himself
underneath her. She reached between them and guided him inside.

He was a perfect fit. She writhed against the wall, clinging to his wet shoulders as

he pounded into her, driving her body over the brink and into pulsating ecstasy with
him. He leaned against her as the spasms of their bodies subsided.

Tara clung to him, planting small kisses along the length of his neck.
“Tara…” He said, turning his head and capturing her mouth in a long, slow kiss.
Her legs were weak but Tara managed to stand when he moved his legs from

underneath hers. Turning off the water he reached for a towel and dried her off, teasing
her with his mouth as he did by kissing the damp skin of her stomach and thighs. Her
imagination went into overdrive thinking of his lips and tongue lashing other parts of
her body.

“You’re incredible,” she said, when he finished and she began to dry him off.
“So are you.” He dropped the towel, picked her up and carried her to the bed.
The ceiling was covered with mistletoe.
“What’s with all this?” She waved toward the green leaves.
“What better reason to kiss you than mistletoe?”
“You didn’t need a reason.”
He kissed her again, his fingers sliding down her body, touching, teasing, exploring

every inch of her.

As David made love to her again, Tara realized that the whispers are silent.

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* * * * *

Tara stood by the windows at David’s balcony watching the full moon. She’d never

felt so safe or so thoroughly loved. They’d stayed in bed all day, making love in every
position possible. His touch was magic. But she’d been right when she’d thought that
having sex with him would strengthen her feelings for him. Sometime during the night
the realization that she was falling in love with him had hit her deep in the heart.

She hadn’t been looking for love.
A no-strings-attached good time was all she’d wanted to start her new beginning.

Instead she’d found an amazing lover who was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a
man both in and outside of the bedroom.

He’d only been gone an hour and she already missed his touch. Paul’s parents left

their house keys in Pennsylvania so David had to meet them near the airport with the
extra set. When Paul called he said they’d just landed.

David had managed to erase any unease she’d felt about Christmas Eve and the day

had been as beautiful as the moonbeams glittering over the ocean.

A flash of white in Tara’s peripheral vision caught her attention. It came from her

balcony. She peered through the window and saw it again.

This time it wasn’t a ghost. Her balcony window was open and the breeze from the

Atlantic had the sheer curtains fluttering in the wind.

Did I leave the sliding glass door open all this time? The last thing she needed was salt

spray on her new plasma television. I’ll just run over and shut it.

David expected her to stay put. She remembered the fear she’d felt in the police

station when she realized that Lisa’s killer could be after her. If the television was
ruined, so be it. That’s why she purchased an extended warranty.

A strong urge to go home fell over her.
It would only take a minute. No, she should stay. What if Lisa’s killer was the one

who’d written on her mirror?

Why am I so indecisive? I need to sit my butt down, watch the tube until David gets here

and forget about anything happening next door.

Tara…Tara… A soft voice called to her.
A sudden chill crept up her spine. Lisa?
If spirits could manifest, could they open a sliding glass door too? There was so

much she didn’t know.

The urge to go over to her condo grew stronger. Tara called David’s cell but it went

straight into his voice mail. She left a message telling him that she’d be at her condo for
a few minutes.

The decision made, she stuck the phone in her pocket. Digging through her purse

she found the key to the new door David ordered. Then, making sure his door wouldn’t
lock behind her, she peeked into the hallway.

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Empty.
She hurried to her home. Inside the glow from the full moon illuminated the living

room. A prickling of uneasiness on the back of her neck caused her heart to beat faster
and made her want to rush. She hadn’t been truly afraid since talking to Mom and
Grammie, since she’d claimed her gifts. Mom said the fear would disappear but Tara
hadn’t thought it would. Fear had been her best friend since childhood. Then again,
she’d been with David since the telephone conversation too. He’d kept her occupied,
grounding her.

The condo was cold. It was probably from the wind blowing inside but Tara

decided to check the thermostat on the way to the door just to be sure she hadn’t left it
too low. It was on 75. Must be the wind off the ocean.

She shut the balcony door. When she turned around Lisa was sitting on the couch.

Startled, Tara froze, her heart pounded in her chest. She’d always heard spirits made
rooms cold but she hadn’t notice that happening when Lisa appeared in David’s home.

I will not be afraid.
Easier said than done.
She tamped down the anxious feeling that rose from the pit of her stomach. The

moonlight gave Lisa an ethereal glow. That was it. Maybe if Lisa was sitting in the
moonlight she could help her move into the light.

Ah hell, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.
“How can I help you, Lisa?” Maybe asking the same thing she’d done earlier would

work again.

You already have. This time, I’m here to protect you.
“What do you mean?” That made absolutely no sense. How could a ghost protect

her? And from what?

The fear that had deserted her returned with a vengeance. Why did she need

protection from the spirit realm? Panic clawed at her. Adrenaline rushed through her
and she was ready to take flight. Something was very wrong and it wasn’t that she was
talking to a ghost.

Run, Tara! Get out of here!
One minute Lisa was sitting on the couch and the next she was on the other side of

the room standing before the darkened hallway.

Tara ran towards the door as the man in rags she’d seen at the elevator stepped out

of the hallway entrance. He jumped in front of her. Tara screamed and tried to push
around him.

“Get back, Lisa!” He shoved her into the living room, holding a gun at her head.
She hit the arm of the couch, lost her balance and fell to the floor. He stepped closer,

looking as if he enjoyed seeing her panic. She scrambled backwards toward the balcony.

Not that she’d jump. The fall would kill her. Right now the objective was to live.

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“I’m not Lisa!” Tara screamed at him.
This time, he looked different. His hair looked tilted on his head. She’d seen him

before, but where?

The microfiche, Lisa said.
That’s right! He was one of the raised men in the photos. The one in the business

suit. Tara realized he was wearing a disguise.

Oh my God, Lisa. Your ex-husband killed you?
Yes. He’s mentally unstable and has control issues. Be very careful.
Lisa moved in front of Tim, who was oblivious to her presence. Tara saw the front

door slowly opening.

“Don’t raise your voice to me.” Tim Cunningham spat the words, his voice low and

gravelly. “I thought I took care of you already. The dead can’t come back to life.”

Tara tried to tap into her clairvoyance to see who was at the door. She heard the

word police. Maybe if she could get a confession out of Tim, that would help Lisa go into
the light.

“Who said I was dead?”
Tim chuckled. The sound was evil and dark. “You always were a smartass, Lisa.

After you divorced me for cheating on you, I had my own revenge. I made you pay. But
somehow you won again.”

“How did you make me pay, Tim? That part of my memory is a blur.”
“I watched you bleed, Lisa. I made damn sure that your heart stopped beating

before I left the house. I watched them bury you. What I don’t understand is how you
came back from the dead. I tried to scare you with blood on your mirror but you never
did scare easily.”

“Don’t you mean fake blood?”
His calm voice turned into a frantic yell. “Don’t come back. Do you hear me? When

I kill you this time—stay dead!”

The front door burst open. Two police officers, Alex and David ran into the room.
Tara watched the scene in front of her as if it was in slow motion. Lisa hit Tim’s arm

just as he pulled the trigger. Small pieces of glass fell around her as the bullet went
through the balcony window. Within moments the police overpowered Tim, put him in
handcuffs and were reciting the Miranda rights.

David lifted her from the floor, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
Tara nodded. “I know I said I’d wait in your place but I had to come home. I don’t

know how to explain it. Why did you bring the police?”

David nodded toward Tim. “He showed up in the building tonight. Security

couldn’t find him so they called the police. Alex told me right after I got your message.
He said he would meet me here.”

“Why?” Tara asked Alex, moving from David’s embrace.

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“Because Lisa’s old boyfriend, Pete, has a rap sheet that has grown significantly

since her death.” Alex said. “All the arrests were assault and battery against women.
We thought he may have written on your mirror because a similar incident had been
reported by one of his victims. David met us downstairs and said you were in your
condo alone. Then an elderly lady in the lobby said she saw a man in rags take the
elevator to the fourteenth floor. We hurried up here, just in case he was the perp. We
heard you yelling from outside and used David’s key to enter. You knew we were there
didn’t you? That’s why you tried to get a confession out of him?”

“First of all, that’s not Pete, it’s Tim Cunningham. He’s wearing a wig.”
One of the officers pulled at the man’s hair. The wig came off revealing Tim’s true

identity.

“I hoped if he thought I was Lisa,” she nodded toward the spirit, “and if I prodded

him, he might say something that would release her from this realm and into the light.”
She addressed Lisa, “I hope the confession will allow you to leave.”

“Well, I don’t know about all of that ghostly stuff,” Alex said, looking at the empty

space that Tara was talking to. “But Tim Cunningham is being booked for Lisa’s
murder and for your attempted murder.”

“So it’s over,” David said.
A bright light filled the room as a portal opened above Lisa.
“Oh my God, I see her,” David whispered.
“So do I,” Alex said.
“Bitch!” Tim screamed. “Stay dead! Stay dead!”
“Get him out of here,” Alex said to the uniformed officers.
They dragged him out of the condo into the hallway.
“Thank you, Tara,” Lisa said.
“Did you two hear that?” she asked.
Both men nodded.
“Lisa, I should be the one thanking you for saving my life. You hit his arm and kept

him from shooting me.”

“Then we are even.” Lisa smiled and looked at Alex. “Did you find the gun where

Tara told you?”

Alex shook his head. “No.”
“The gun he held tonight is the same one he used to kill me. Visit his home in

Cloverdale Park and you will find the wooden storage box in the spare bedroom on the
second floor. There are papers in the box that will seal his fate.” Lisa walked up to Tara
and grasped her hands. “You have wonderful gift, Tara. Fear has no place in your life.
When you recognize why you’re afraid and release it, your life will be full and happy.
Spirits will not hurt you, movies aren’t real and you can help many lost souls with your

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psychic gifts. Listen to the whispers, Tara. They are your Spirit Guides trying to talk to
you if you’ll only listen. Use your abilities to help others like me.”

Tara looked down. She saw Lisa’s hands holding hers but the sensation was one of

coldness. “I’ll try, Lisa. I’ll really try.”

“Teach him too.” She tilted her head towards David. “He’s open and receptive. You

two will make a great team.”

“Oh, I don’t know—”
“Trust me, Tara. You will.”
Lisa smiled and looked up into the light. “I’ve got to go. Thank you all.”
She disappeared into the portal’s brilliance. It faded away until only moonlight lit

the room.

“Wow.” Alex stood there for along moment looking at Tara. “I’m going to head

back to the station. I don’t think you have any more reasons to be afraid now that we
have Tim in custody.”

“You’re right Alex. I’m not afraid any longer.”
David escorted Alex to the door. “Call if you need us.”
“I will,” he said as he pulled the door shut behind him.
“You know,” David said as he sauntered back toward Tara. “I’ve been thinking that

this wall between our units could be knocked down. We’d have a huge place then.”

“Why would you want to do that? You might get tired of me in a few months, then

you’d regret it.”

“I’ll never get tired of you.” David cupped her chin with his fingers and lifted her

mouth to his. His kiss was gentle and sweet. “Nor will I ever regret anything. I’ve never
been in love before, Tara. The instant I met you my whole world changed. When I woke
up this morning I couldn’t imagine not having you in my bed every day. You might
think I’m crazy. Hell, I think this all happened too fast. Time doesn’t matter. My heart
knows that there’ll never be anyone else like you in my life. I don’t need to look any
further. I have loved you, Tara, almost from the moment I laid eyes on you. I want to
spend the rest of our lives together if you’ll have me.”

“I think you’re the most romantic man I’ve ever known.” She slid her arms around

his neck. “I want nothing more than to marry you.”

David tugged her against him and kissed her in that long, slow, sensuous way that

stole her breath and the whispers.

“I think Christmas will forever be my favorite holiday. And these, are the only kind

of sugar kisses I’ll ever want.”

David grinned and pulled her into a moonbeam. She followed his gaze to the

ceiling as his lips caressed hers in a tender kiss.

She’d never look at moonlight and mistletoe in the same way again.

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About the Author

Ariana welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Also by Ariana Dupré

Night Visions

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

[e-mail].

V

AMPIRE

’

S

C

HRISTMAS

C

AROL

Karen McCullough

Trademark Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the

following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Coca-Cola: The Coca-Cola Company
Neon: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

Vampire’s Christmas Carol

Chapter One

Carol Prescott clung to the steering wheel of the Neon. Her fingers wrapped it in a

death grip as she stared through the windshield, trying to keep the car on the road and
figure out where the hell she was. Even with her brights on, the headlights barely
pierced the stormy darkness for more than twenty yards ahead.

The rain had changed to sleet a few miles beyond Greenville, creating icy patches

on the roads. No doubt the weather had caused the accident that blocked both
southbound lanes of the interstate, forcing her to exit and detour on small country
roads. Traffic had been sparse on the highway. It dwindled to near nothing when she
got off it. No surprise. Everyone else had traveled earlier.

Now, at nine thirty on Christmas Eve, they were all safe and snug, partying with

relatives, hanging stockings, toasting each other in front of a warm fire and trying to
keep the children entertained or induce them to get to sleep. All the things she wanted
to be doing at her parents’ house in Decatur. Would be doing by now if her boss hadn’t
insisted he needed that last report done before she left. Instead she was still almost an
hour and a half from Atlanta. She cursed him under her breath, again, then tightened
her fingers on the wheel as the road curved around a bend and the tires nearly lost
traction on the slick surface. God, she wanted to be finished with this trip.

A crossroads loomed ahead, with just a couple of local road markers. No indication

of how to get back to the highway. She so needed to get a GPS navigation system. Put it
on the shopping list. She reached for her cell phone, thinking it was time to call 9-1-1,
then dropped it in disgust after a glance at the screen. No signal. Figured. There was a
whole lot of nothing much in the area between Atlanta and Greenville. She needed a
new cell service too. One with better coverage.

Carol guessed she was south of the highway, so she turned right on the theory that

it should take her back toward the interstate. She needed a service station or even a
house where she could ask directions, but for several miles she saw nothing but trees,
lonely pastureland and a few silos off in the distance.

Panic set in after another few miles without even the sight of a house. She passed a

couple of driveways that might have approached one, but given the weather, she didn’t
want to risk a passage that might lead nowhere. Her heart pounded and her stomach
twisted painfully as she debated her next move.

She’d almost driven past the side road that branched off when she noticed a light

shining from down that way. Unfortunately, in her excitement at seeing that sign of life
and civilization, she forgot road conditions for a moment and swung the wheel sharply
to make the turn. The tires lost traction on the slick surface and the car began to skid
sideways.

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Karen McCullough

With dim memories of instructions she’d heard, she fought the urge to turn the

other way and steered into the skid. It worked—sort of. She regained control, just not in
time to keep the car from sliding into a ditch at the side of the road. Carol shut her eyes
for a moment, fearing the car would overturn or ram into the enormous oak tree not far
from the verge.

Neither happened, but the car did end up sitting at a rather peculiar angle, its left

side lower than the right. The tires made an odd, scrunchy noise as they turned, but the
car remained in place. She put her foot on the brake pedal, then switched gears, hoping
to reverse out of the ditch.

The wheels spun and churned. The car lurched, but then stuck and refused to move

any farther. Her heart jerked and beat faster as the danger of the situation penetrated.

The area was ominously quiet. Nothing stirred on the road. For a few minutes, she

just sat, breathing hard, struggling against the panic. What to do? Wait for someone to
come by and see her distress, maybe offer to help out? But she hadn’t seen another car
for some time. Yell for help? It was doubtful anyone was close enough to hear.

The light that had distracted her still shone through the trees, almost dead ahead

now, since the car had swerved to the right. Should she wait for help or get out and
head for the light, hoping it was a dwelling and not just some sort of marker or
warning?

No other cars had passed for quite a while. If she stayed, the gas would eventually

run out and she’d begin to freeze. Better she check out the light. She could always come
back to the car if it proved unhelpful.

Carol grabbed her coat from the backseat. Her tennis shoes weren’t ideal footwear

for the weather, but at least she wasn’t wearing heels or her favorite mocs. She had a
flashlight in the glove box and fresh batteries. When she got out, she took a moment to
shine the light on the car’s wheels. The left front tire was deep in the ditch and had spun
in the half-frozen mud. The right front tire wasn’t even touching the ground. She
definitely wouldn’t be getting out of there without some help.

Her best bet was to find a place she could shelter and make a phone call, so she set

off. With the sleet still coming down, she made slow progress along the narrow side
road, drawn by the beacon of light, until she drew even with it. A paved driveway
curved up toward its radiance, passing through a thick stand of trees. She almost broke
down and cried when she realized the path led to a house and the yellow glow poured
from several windows.

By the time she got to the door, she was soaked, shivering with cold and desperate

for the warmth the light promised. She found no bell, but the door featured a heavy,
iron knocker shaped like the head of an old man. Marley’s ghost? Wasn’t it on
Christmas Eve that Scrooge had seen the face of his old partner in the knocker on his
door?

Deciding she was getting punchy with exhaustion and cold, she raised the heavy

iron bar of the knocker and banged it several times. Nothing happened, so she repeated

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the action. Finally, as she prepared for a third assault, the door creaked open. A man
stood there, backlit by a lamp in the hall, leaving him almost entirely in shadow.

Her teeth chattered so hard it took an effort to get anything out. “Please, I’m

stranded up the—”

“Did Antoine send you?” The aggressive tone as much as the words shocked her

into taking a step backward.

“No, my car slid into a ditch.”
He ignored the response. “Tell him it won’t work.” The door closed in her face.
Carol stared at it for a moment, then lifted the knocker bar and began beating it

against the base. She had to keep at it for several minutes before the door opened again.

“I need help. I’m freezing out here and my car’s in a ditch—”
“I can’t help you.” The man started to push the door closed again.
Carol stepped forward and stuck her foot in the opening to prevent it. “You have

to. Please! I’m going to freeze to death if you don’t help me. Honest to God.” He
flinched and she pressed the advantage. “At least let me come in and make a phone call.
I assure you I’m harmless. I’m just freezing.”

“Phone lines are down,” he said.
“Hell. And my cell phone’s not getting a signal. Please, can I at least come in and

get warm? I’m getting totally desperate. In fact, I’ll just keep banging on your door until
you let me in or I collapse.”

He muttered something under his breath, then said to her, “It’s dangerous to come

in. You take your life in your hands.”

“It’s dangerous out here too. I can’t imagine what could be so risky inside, but it’s

got to be better than freezing to death out here.”

“Don’t be too sure.”
He didn’t stop her when she pushed past him to get inside.
“On your own head be it.” The door closed behind her with a resounding thud.
Blessed warmth settled like a cloak around her, though icy water dripped off her

hair onto her face and ran down under her coat. She didn’t even want to think what she
must look like. Her embarrassment got worse when he stepped back far enough to
stand in the light pouring in from the next room. It left shadows across his face, but still
she could see the outlines of features well enough to tell she faced a strikingly
handsome man, no more than a few years older than her own twenty-six years. A frown
tightened his sensual mouth. Cheeks and jaw were set in tense, hard lines.

She smiled at him and held out a hand. “I’m Carol Prescott. Thank you for letting

me in.”

He shook his head. No answering smile touched his stern features, nor did he take

her hand or reach toward her. “You’re a fool.” He said it softly, sounding more sad than
angry.

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“Not arguing. I should have turned around when it started sleeting. I could’ve

found a hotel for the night. I wish I had.”

His expression didn’t change. The man stared hard at her, so she felt free to stare

back. He was gorgeous. No other way to put it. Glossy black hair, cut neatly, topped a
well-shaped head and set off big, deep blue eyes, a straight nose, sensual lips, lean jaw
and a fabulous set of cheekbones. All that on top of six feet of lean, graceful, masculine
muscle with broad shoulders and slim hips. Damn. And she looked like something a cat
had dunked in the swamp before dragging in.

After a moment, he shook himself and said, “I’ll get you a towel. There’s a fire in

the parlor if you care to go in and warm up.” He extended an arm toward the arch that
led into the brightly lit room.

The fire crackled merrily in an enormous brick-lined fireplace. It pulled her toward

it like a magnet. After shrugging out of her coat, Carol stood in front of it and held her
hands out toward the flame. Warmth seeped into her icy fingers and crawled through
her system. When she finally began to feel less shivery, other things struck her. Like
how very quiet the house was. A distant hum showed the refrigerator was running, and
the vague low rumble likely came from a furnace somewhere down below. The phone
line might be out, but the electricity was running…unless he had a generator. An
occasional snap from the fire and a creak from some settling piece of wood rounded out
the sounds of the house. No other voices. Did he live in this big old house all by
himself?

Why would a young man choose to sequester himself out here in the back of

nowhere?

She glanced around the room, struck by its odd combination of old and new. The

sofa, end tables, desk, heavy velvet drapes, lamps and pictures were clean and dust-
free, but in styles that were fashionable maybe a century ago. The Oriental rug on the
floor had worn well, but it too had an air of having been there a long, long time. The
lamps looked new, however, and one stood beside a more modern leather recliner.
Built-in shelves covered the entire far wall. In addition to an abundant collection of
books, they held a wide-screen TV, a DVD-VCR machine and rows upon rows of DVDs
and tapes.

Out in the hall, an old-fashioned grandfather clock bonged eleven times.
Her host returned to the room carrying a stack of towels. He made almost no sound

when he moved, not even a squeak or tap of the leather loafers he wore. He handed her
the towels.

She looked up at him, seeing him more clearly in the light of a nearby lamp. He was

just as handsome as her first shadowy view had suggested. Maybe even more so. But he
also looked thin and haggard, like someone fighting a long, wasting illness or someone
who’d carried a heavy burden for a long time. Even with the warm firelight reflecting
on it, his skin was very pale.

Carol took a towel from him and began drying her hair.

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He looked at the coat she’d hung on a corner of the mantel. “You can’t stay here. It’s

too dangerous. You can take time to dry off and warm up, but then you’ve got to go.”

She’d thawed enough that irritation began to replace fear of freezing to death.

“What’s so dangerous that I risk death by staying here? Is this the Bates Motel or
something? Does someone have the plague? Or do you have a crazy wife closeted
upstairs?”

His lips quirked for a moment and almost made it to a grin before the austere

expression took over again.

“Definitely no on the last one, but the others are too damn close.”
“Okay, is this twenty questions? Are you going to give me another clue?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. I’m going to tell you. But you’re not going to believe it.”
“So try me.”
“Okay. Here it is. I’m a vampire. A very hungry vampire.”
“Um, yeah. Right. And I’m a werewolf queen. Are you one of those LARP people?”
He looked surprised and then puzzled. “You’re a werewolf?” His expression

changed to disgust. “You’re joking, yes? What’s a Larp?”

“No. Yes. And it’s a game. Live action role-playing. The kind where people play

characters like vampires and werewolves and zombies and chase each other around.”

“People play at being vampires?” He sounded shocked.
“Well, yeah. What are you doing?”
“Not playing.” He stared at her a moment. “You don’t believe me. I hate to have to

show you. I may not be able to control what happens next. If I don’t, though, you won’t
believe me and you won’t be ready to defend yourself. Pay attention now and be ready
to run.”

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The muscles of his face

tightened in either pain or concentration. For a moment his jaw worked in on odd
rolling motion. The muscles of his face tightened up, changing something in his face to
look threatening and dangerous.

When he opened his eyes, a different person—no, a different creature—looked out

of them. Blood-red lights flickered in the depths, swallowing the blue color, and the
remote expression changed to something fierce and hungry and menacing as his gaze
focused on her. Then he opened his mouth and—

“Oh my God, are those fangs?” she asked. “Yikes! They’re either really good fakes

or I’m getting seriously creeped out.”

He said nothing for a moment, but his eyes went wide and his tongue came out to

swipe across his lips. His breathing grew louder. He took a step toward her, mouth
open, leading with the fangs.

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Carol took a step backward. Unless he was one hell of an actor and had a pair of

fake fangs in his mouth that he could push out and retract on a moment’s notice, this
was getting very scary.

Something flickered in his expression, then he halted and drew several sharp, deep

breaths. He closed his eyes and his mouth again. When he opened the first to look at
her, the red fire and fierce hunger had disappeared, leaving him looking even more
haggard and tired than before.

“Go for creeped out,” he suggested. “It’s safer.”
She had to gulp back the obstruction in her throat brought on by fear before she

could talk. “Okay, I think I’m starting to believe. Which leaves me with a lot of
questions.”

“Forget the questions and just go.”
One fear collided with another in her mind. Freezing to death versus getting

chomped by a vampire. One was very real and she’d already had too much experience
with it that night. The other was a bizarre possibility she only half believed. “You
looked outside lately? I think the sleet is changing to snow. My car’s in a ditch up the
road. My cell phone is dead. You say the landline is down. What am I supposed to do?
Unless— Have you got a car? Maybe you could pull me out of the ditch?”

“I don’t have a car.”
“You have a cell phone? One that’s getting a signal now?”
He shook his head.
“How close is the nearest neighbor? One who isn’t a vampire. Could I walk there?”
He considered, then went to the window to glance out. “It’s almost a mile to the

Williams’ place. You’d never make it in this.”

“Well, that’s cheery news for a merry Christmas Eve. How about if I just find a

room somewhere with a sturdy lock and barricade myself in until it stops snowing?”

“Not an entirely bad idea,” he admitted. “You’ll only have to worry about it until

morning.”

“Right. Vampires sleep during the day. Where’s your coffin?”
“That’s actually a rather rude thing to ask.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “Anyway, you’ll be safe after daybreak tomorrow. I’ll be dead then.”
“Dead?” The word came out as a startled yip. “Aren’t you already dead? Or, I guess

that is what happens to vampires during the day.”

“Sort of, but it wasn’t what I meant. Tomorrow I’ll die for good. At sunrise.”
“For good. You mean, like, finally? But how do you know?”
“My hundred years of grace are up tonight. If I don’t drink human blood by

tomorrow morning, I’ll die at dawn. And I don’t plan on drinking any, which is why
your presence is so dangerous.”

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“I don’t— Oh. Temptation?”
He nodded.
“This sounds like kind of a long story. Any chance of getting a hot drink or

something while you tell me about it? Before I creep off to that locked room for the
night? Oh, and by the way, I don’t even know your name.”

He stared at her for a moment before a flash of amusement crossed his face then

disappeared. “It’s Michael Carpenter.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael,” she said. “I think. As long as you don’t go drinking

from me. Oh, wait.” Carol reached under her sweater and pulled out the silver cross she
wore on a chain. “Does this give me any protection?”

His eyes widened. “I didn’t know anyone still wore those. Not in belief, anyway.

But you do believe in it. Yes, it affords you some protection. But don’t rely on it. Should
I get desperate enough, even the pain it would cause wouldn’t stop me. It’s entirely
possible I could get that desperate.”

“Well, heck, that’s a downer.”
He ignored her last remark and his expression grew thoughtful. “I think perhaps…

There is something you could do for me. If you would. And it would help preserve
you.”

“Oh? What?”
“I’d like you to write down my story. I’m not sure what I want you to do with it yet.

I’m thinking about that. It might help— Oh, damnation.” He looked beyond her, into a
corner of the room.

Carol turned, in time to see a figure forming out of what appeared to a grayish

cloud of thick dust or mist. The shape that coalesced had the form of a man, a tall, thin,
pale man with a lean face and glowing red eyes. The rhythm of her heart notched up to
a heavy thump as those eyes focused on her.

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Chapter Two

A leering smile warped the mouth of the newcomer, showing a nasty, almost

gloating sort of amusement. “Who’s your friend, Michael? Looks tasty.” His grin
widened, showing long, sharp fangs.

Unwilling belief started to take root inside her and grow. This might be an elaborate

prank, but she couldn’t see how they’d managed that smoke-mist effect and couldn’t
imagine why they’d go to so much trouble.

She started to really worry when Michael said, “What are you doing here?” and

even he sounded concerned.

The newcomer’s fangs almost glittered, reflecting the firelight, as he shook his head.

“Michael! This is your last night. Why do you think I’m here?”

“To continue making my life hell,” Michael answered.
“Dear boy, no such thing. You’re throwing away a heaven you barely imagine.”
“You’ve already shown me. Our definitions are different.”
The creature turned its red gaze her way. “But what’s this? Michael, you’ve been

holding out on me. What a sweet little morsel you have here.”

“Right,” Michael answered. “And how did you arrange that, anyway, Antoine?”
The other vampire shook his head. “How could I have? She’s stranded in a ditch. At

least I assume that’s her car down the road?”

“You know it is. Go away. You’re not needed here.”
“You don’t want my company on your last night on this earth? We’ve always had a

special relationship.”

“Special in the wrong kind of way,” Michael said. “No, I don’t want you. Get out.”
Antoine shrugged and turned her way, though he continued to address his remarks

to Michael. “Are you going to drink from her? No? But it’s a shame to waste such a
pretty treat. If you don’t want her—” He took a step in her direction.

Almost before she could blink and back away, Michael was there, standing in front

of her, facing Antoine. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Surprise spread across Antoine’s face, but it changed rapidly to a sneer. “Ah, ever

the gallant.” The words dripped sarcasm. “But it will make it all the more satisfying
when you can no longer bear the thirst and the dying and take her yourself. You’ll be
mine just as surely then.”

“It won’t happen.”
“So you say. But you’ve yet to feel the full clawing of the blood-thirst in your gut, as

your body fails and craves what will keep it alive. Perhaps it will be more fun to wait

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around and watch as you lose the fight. I predict it will happen at a couple of hours
before dawn. Maybe before, but certainly by then.”

“Antoine…”
The other vampire laughed, and his form began to dissolve into mist again. “I’ll let

you enjoy the illusion of privacy for the moment. But I won’t be far. I’ll hear the screams
and come to enjoy watching your surrender. Au revoir, mon galant.”

Within moments, he’d broken up into mist and then the cloud itself faded away.
Carol drew in a deep breath to steady herself. Why did she feel the danger had lessened?

She still stood in the same room with a vampire—a dying and soon-to-be desperate one,
according to Antoine. Michael hadn’t denied the truth of the words.

“That was…another vampire, wasn’t it?”
“Antoine. He made me.”
“Made you…a vampire?”
“Technically I’m just an undead. You don’t become a true vampire until you’ve

drunk human blood. I’ve yet to do so.”

“Why? Or rather, why not?”
“They’re monsters. Forget the romantic stories you see on television and movies

about them. They’re human-sized parasites. They don’t just drink blood, they kill
people—brutally and cruelly—to take their life essence. They steal others’ lives to
prolong their own. I won’t be one of them.”

Carol shivered as it occurred to her she’d come close to becoming a victim just a

minute ago, and might yet be if she hung around. Urgh. Which was worse—death by
vampire or death by freezing? What a lovely choice.

“You’re still chilly,” he said, seeing her shake. “Let me get that hot drink for you.”

Michael threw another log on the fire before he left the room.

Carol moved closer to it. Should she just leave right now? He’d said the nearest

occupied dwelling was almost a mile away. The odds of her making it even half that far
in this weather weren’t good—and that was if she had some idea which way to go. He
might help her with directions, but it was still late at night and snowing hard enough to
obscure visibility beyond a few feet ahead. It was covering the roads too, and hiding
ditches and other obstacles. Since Michael, at least, didn’t seem inclined to kill her right
this moment, she was probably safer staying here for the moment, husbanding her
strength for a mad dash should it become necessary.

Another thought crossed her mind. She went to the hallway and looked around at

all the exits going off it. No one in sight. No sound of footsteps. But an old-fashioned
model phone, the kind with a rotary dial and a handset attached by a cord to the base,
sat on a side table. She went to it and picked up the receiver, hoping to hear a dial tone,
despite what Michael had said.

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Instead the sound of silence rang loudly in her ear. Apparently he’d told the truth

about the phones being out. She set it down carefully and went back to the living room
and the fire. She really was stranded here, in the house with a monster.

A few minutes later, he returned with a tray bearing two steaming mugs that

smelled of coffee, a small pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar. There was also a plate of
small sandwiches. He put it down on a side table and gestured her to an armchair that
faced the fireplace. He nodded toward the tray. “Please go ahead. The food is for you.
You’ve got to be hungry.”

It seemed odd for a self-confessed vampire to be so polite, especially to someone

who had practically forced her way into his home. But he was right. Tension, fear and
the struggle through the weather to get here left her ravenous.

When she’d put milk and sugar into one of the cups and carried it and the plate

back to a chair, he took the other cup of coffee, leaving it black.

After finishing the first small sandwich, she asked, “You can drink coffee? I mean

don’t you drink bl—?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Blood. Yes. But I can drink anything else I want. I can eat the same things as you

also, but I derive no nourishment from them. Except for raw, red meat. But I enjoy
eating other things sometimes, just to remember what it feels like.” He took a careful sip
from the coffee cup.

“How have you survived, then?”
“Raw meat, and occasional late night forays to the neighbors’ cow pastures.”
Carol shuddered. She stared at the little cheese sandwich she held, wondering if she

could still swallow it. Hunger won and it went down.

After another long sip from his cup, Michael got up and retrieved a pad and pen

from a desk at the side of the room. He handed them to her and went back to the
recliner.

“I’ll leave it to you to decide what to do with this when I’m gone. Perhaps you’ll

want to burn it. I doubt anyone will believe it in any case.”

“They might not believe, but won’t Antoine or someone like him want to stop me

from publishing it, or whatever I decide to do?”

He leaned back in the chair. “Though I doubt it would concern them—they’re an

arrogant lot—it would be best if you told no one about this until after you’ve done
whatever you decide to do.”

“I’m betting he knows about it.”
Michael shrugged. “If it becomes an issue, destroy it. It’s not worth anyone’s life.

But I hope you won’t have to.”

He drew a deep breath. His fingers curled on the arms of the chair, the tips making

indents in the leather upholstery. “It begins one hundred years ago. Exactly one
hundred years ago this night. I was twenty-nine years old at the time. My family owned
a place not far from here, but I lived in Atlanta where I practiced law. I was seeing a

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wonderful, very attractive young lady named Lucy. Had been seeing her for almost a
year. You remind me a little of her. In looks, but also in manner. She had a gentle way
about her, but she could be strong and firm when needed.

“On that Christmas Eve, I was walking to her family’s home for dinner. I had a ring

with me and intended to ask her to be my wife. As I passed a dark alley between two
buildings, I heard a scream. I ran toward it. The light was faint, but I could just discern
two forms, a man holding a struggling woman. She yelled again, sounding desperate,
despairing…

* * * * *

The woman’s last scream faded into a gurgle and moan. When Michael reached

them, he yanked the man back from the woman. Faster than should be humanly
possible, the attacker whirled to face him. In the faint gleam of moonlight, Michael
made out a narrow face atop a long, lean body. His opponent had several inches of
height and some forty pounds of weight on him. But more terrifying than his
opponent’s greater size were the feral red eyes that shone in his face. This creature was
something other than human.

Michael dragged in a ragged breath when the figure’s mouth opened to reveal a

flash of fang glinting in the moonlight. He backed up a couple of steps until a wall
behind stopped his retreat.

“Who are you to interfere with my meal?” The creature had a deep, growly voice

that contrasted oddly with a slight fang-induced lisp.

Terror froze Michael and kept him from responding. A frantic look around showed

no other exit from the alley. The only way to escape was back the way he’d come in.
The creature moved so fast he’d have no chance. He had no chance anyway. But he
wasn’t going to stand around and wait to be this monster’s dinner. He saw no sign of
the woman who’d screamed earlier as he darted around to the side and headed for the
end of the alley.

Fingers—or were they claws?—dug into his shoulders and yanked him back against

the predator he’d interrupted. He writhed and twisted, struggling to get out of the
creature’s hold. But the claws held him firmly, and then he felt the hot breath on his
throat just before fangs sank in. Michael fell into darkness.

He woke slowly. Sounds penetrated his awareness first, an occasional clatter that

sounded like boots on stone and the low murmur of voices. Touch and feel came next.
He lay on something yielding and cloth-covered, but not particularly soft. A sense of
something different about the way his body felt grew. All his parts seemed to be
present… He wiggled his toes and clenched his fingers into fists. Everything responded.
The speed and strength of the response startled him. It felt much faster and more
powerful than he was used to.

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Michael opened his eyes and levered himself up on his elbows to look around. He

lay in a room just large enough to hold three cots, including the one he occupied. Stone
walls, stone floors and timbers above suggested a basement. No windows let in any
light. In fact, there were no lamps or fire anywhere. So how could he see so clearly? And
where the devil was this?

A door at the far end of the room creaked open and a man entered. He wore a white

tunic, but any resemblance to a doctor ended there. Long, dark hair hung down past his
shoulders and a scruffy beard hid his chin.

His smile as he approached flashed a set of sharp canines. “You’ve decided to wake

at last?” he said.

“I was…asleep?” He searched his memory for a reason why he’d gone to bed in this

place, but came up with nothing. “The last thing I remember…being attacked. The
monster bit me. Then it went dark.”

“Monster? You’ll have to revise your thinking. You’re one of us now.”
“Us?”
“The Risen. Humans sometimes call us ‘vampires’.”
“The bloodsuckers.”
The other man shrugged. “It’s true, if not too polite.”
“I’m one of you? Hellfire. I don’t—” But he did believe it. He remembered the fangs

sinking into his shoulder, the unexpectedly powerful reactions of his body when he
woke. “Damnation. I’m a monster myself? How did that happen?”

“You struggled with Antoine when he caught you. You scratched him. At the same

time he drained you, some of his blood seeped into you. Hence you are here. He turned
you, though not by his own choice. Still, you are his get.”

Michael heard the words, but his brain refused to dwell on the implications.

“Where is here?” he asked instead.

“You are in a secure place. A place where we can be assured no sunlight will reach

you, nor hostiles approach, until you are prepared to go out in the world again.” He
shrugged. “Now, come. Let’s see if you’re ready to stand. Most are somewhat unsteady
for a bit after the long sleep.”

“How long have I been asleep?” He tried to lever himself upright, but fell back

when the world spun around him.

“Gently. Let’s do this slowly so your body has time to adjust.”
“How long?”
The man drew a long, loud breath. “This always comes as a shock, so prepare

yourself. You’ve slept for ten years. Give or take a few months.”

“Ten years! Impossible.”
“It takes a while to recover from death.”
“But… My family, Lucy… What of them?”

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He shrugged. “No doubt they’ve moved on with their lives. As far as they know,

you’ve disappeared. I should imagine they acknowledged you dead years ago. In truth,
you are.”

“But I’m not.”
“You’re undead now.”
“What does that mean?”
The man helped him rise, more slowly this time, and he found the world remained

stable this time as he gradually got himself upright. “You’ll learn. Since you’re his get,
Antoine will be responsible for training you.”

“Training?”
“You do ask many questions.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“That explains it then.” He drew in a breath and expelled it on a sigh. “Antoine may

have less patience. So let me give you a quick view. When you fought Antoine, you
died. He drained you of blood, but some of his own blood slipped into you at the same
time. That allowed you to become one of us. You slept for ten years while your body
began the transition. The entire process takes precisely one hundred years, so you have
ninety remaining. The blood hunger won’t rise for a while, probably forty or fifty years,
so you have time to get used to the idea.”

“Blood hunger?”
“We survive by drinking blood. It’s the only thing can sustain us. But you needn’t

do so for a while after the transition. In fact, you have the entire time of the transition.
But you must drink from another living human at least once before the hundred years
expires or the transition fails and you truly die.”

Footsteps sounded down the hall, the heavy clunking of boots on stone. The other

man looked uneasy. “Antoine is coming for you and there’s more to tell you. Come to
me when you can. I’m Kurt Severin. Don’t believe everything he tells you is true.”

The footsteps stopped at the door. A tall, thin figure stood there—the one he’d

fought in the dark alley. He didn’t look quite as large in this space, this odd un-light,
but just as monstrous, though his face was that of a man. An evil man. The smile he sent
Michael’s way made him shiver, though he wasn’t chilly. In face, he hadn’t been aware
of being either hot or cold since he woke.

“My child,” Antoine said, the words tinged with wry, cruel satisfaction and no

affection.

“Hardly that.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “I made you. You’re mine.”
“I belong to no one but myself,” Michael returned. “I understand it’s your

responsibility to train me, but your obligation and your rights end with that.”

Antoine gave a disdainful shake of his head. “Perhaps I’ll leave you your illusions

for now. It will be more satisfying to watch them die slowly.”

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* * * * *

Michael paused after repeating Antoine’s words, and Carol let the pen rest. When

she looked up, his fingers curled tensely around the arms of his chair. He stared at her
with a fixed, hard look, and she again saw the flash of red in the depths of his eyes.

A frisson of fear shivered down her spine as he remained quiet and staring while

his body grew tenser. He shifted forward in the chair as though poised to launch
himself out of it. Breath heaved in and out, the inhalations getting shorter, while his
steady gaze made her feel like a squirrel staring down the wrong end of a hunter’s rifle.

Carol shifted also, gathering herself to run if he made any more threatening moves.
The fire crackled and snapped. Wood creaked as it settled somewhere in the old

house.

The red glow in his eyes grew stronger. He opened his mouth, and firelight

glittered off elongating fangs.

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Chapter Three

She might really be safer outside, even if it was snowing harder than ever. She

turned to look at a window, to see if she could tell, but saw only the reflection of the
room and the people in it. Wasn’t there some old myth about vampires not having a
reflection in mirrors? Either that didn’t apply to window glass or it was indeed just a
myth. She saw his reflection clearly enough.

An odd noise, half moan and half curse, came from him right before he threw

himself back in the chair, eyes closed, head smacking against the back.

She turned toward him. When he opened his eyes again, they were just deep blue,

with no red showing. His breath changed to a series of elongating pants, like someone
who’d just done wind sprints. His teeth looked normal again.

The fire popped and snapped as a burnt log collapsed, triggering a shower of

sparks. He let out a long breath that carried an almost painful edge of despair. His face
looked drawn, etched with suffering. “That was bad.” He brushed a hand across his
eyes. “Did I scare you half to death? I’m sorry. It took me by surprise and it was
stronger than I expected.”

“Because I’m here?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe just because time’s so short. It’s been getting

stronger when it hits for the last few days. With time winding down, it will get worse,
quickly. You might be safer outside, even with the weather.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “Do you want me to go?”
He looked surprised. “You would?”
“It’s not my first choice. But I hate that I might be making this harder for you.”
He stared at her for a moment before his mouth crooked into a wry grin. “Harder in

one way, but… I don’t know. I’ve been alone so long, I’d forgotten that there’s comfort
in company. Especially attractive and sympathetic company. But I don’t know if I can
hold out at the end, when the bloodlust and the instinct for self-preservation meet and
combine. I’m not a strong man. That’s why I’ve hidden myself here where no
temptation could reach me.”

“Until I knocked on your door.”
“The very night I’d have the hardest time resisting. I don’t know how Antoine

managed it, but I can’t think that’s entirely coincidence.”

“I don’t know how he managed it either. Unless he played tricks with my brain to

induce me to make wrong turns?”

“Or played tricks with signs?”

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Carol considered. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“In any case, I’m very sorry he involved you, that he’s using you as bait in a trap set

for me. If there were something I could do to protect you…” He stood and went to the
desk again, moving so fast she could barely see him. He got something from a drawer,
returned and handed the object to her. It took her a moment to realize what she held.

“A wooden stake? That’s true?” The stake was about a foot long, an inch in

diameter and sharpened to a wicked point at one end.

“It’s true. The trick is getting it into the vampire before he’s torn out your throat.

You saw how fast I can move. Two suggestions. Keep the stake in your hand at all
times. And don’t turn your back on me. Even for a second. Also, when you see red in
my eyes, look down at my hands, don’t look at my face.”

She nodded, watching him. The combination of his concern for her, his obvious

effort to restrain himself, the tragedy of his story and his torment touched her heart. His
good looks, ravaged by suffering but still poignantly attractive, didn’t hurt either. She
wanted to put a hand on his arm, to show him there was comfort in contact too, but she
feared it would provoke another attack.

Damn, it was stupid to let him get to her. Stupid in so many ways she couldn’t even

count them.

Out in the hall, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Midnight. Witching hour. Or

the vampire hour, in this case. She almost laughed, but stifled it. She was getting
punchy and still having trouble believing it, despite what she’d seen.

“Do you want to go on with your story?” she asked.
Michael nodded, but went to put another log on the fire before he continued.

“Whatever illusions I had did die slowly.” He remained standing, with an arm propped
against the mantel. “But I made sure he got no satisfaction from it. It wasn’t easy,
though. It was a shock to find out that since he turned me, he did pretty much own
me.”

“How so?” Carol picked up her pen.
“His blood runs in my veins. It’s kept me alive all these years. It creates a link

between us. He cannot control or compel me as long as I don’t meet his eyes, but he can
always find me, and everyone else in the vampire community acknowledges his rights
over me. He can make it very…uncomfortable to refuse him, and if I do forget and meet
his eyes, even for a second, he does control me.” He drew a deep breath and let it out
slowly, pushing hair back from his eyes. “As I found out the night I discovered how
truly monstrous a creature I’d become.”

His eyes closed for a moment and his mouth squeezed in a tight grimace before it

relaxed as he spoke again.

“Antoine had been training me for some months by then, but it was mostly routine

stuff… Staying out of sunlight, sleeping underground in a locked room, understanding
the vampire hierarchy and how to spot the older, higher-ranking vampires, how to

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fight. A lot of how to fight. They do a lot of fighting among themselves. I got…rather
good at it.”

It should have sounded boastful, but the words held no trace of pride.
“He also taught me how to attack humans. The trick is either to get them from

behind before they even know you’re there or to let them run away and catch up from
behind. You don’t want to give them a chance to beg or plead or cry. Especially not cry.
Human tears are not good for a vampire. Of course, I didn’t have to put that into
practice since the hunger hadn’t roused. I was living with it well enough, other than
having to spend so much time with Antoine.

“Then, about a year after I woke, Antoine took me to my first vampire feast.”

* * * * *

The house looked almost shockingly normal as Antoine’s brand-new horseless

carriage rumbled up the drive toward a large, two-story house, built in the Victorian
style with porches, towers and a few bits of elaborate trim. Dim, sullen light shone from
all the downstairs windows and a few of the upper ones.

The carriage pulled under the porte-cochere and they got out. Antoine didn’t knock

or wait for acknowledgement, but turned the knob and pushed the door open. Michael
followed him into an entrance hall lit by a pair of candelabras. He had learned to see the
aura of power surrounding the undead and the different levels of vampires. The
strength of the aura signaling power and rank. Men and women—vampires all—floated
around the area, in costumes that ranged from the ordinary suits he and Antoine wore
to the stunningly exotic. Kimonos from the Orient mingled with rougher wear from the
Western states, tunics and saris from India, as well as togas and gowns from ages long
gone.

“You didn’t tell me this was a costume party,” Michael said.
Antoine shook his head. “It’s not. They’re dressed as they were accustomed to in

their before life. Or sometimes as whimsy takes them. Come over to the bars.”

There were two of them, a blood bar and one serving other beverages. Michael

gratefully requested a beer. Though it tasted as good as he remembered, he was
disappointed to find the alcohol no longer brought him the comfort it once did.

Antoine introduced him to one vampire after another. Michael wouldn’t remember

the names afterward and he struggled to recognize the titles and respond accordingly.
He realized about twenty minutes into the party that Antoine was testing him with the
rest of the local vampire society. He thought he passed. He did forget to bow to a
vampire referred to as “Minister” and addressed a director as “Sir” rather than “Your
Honor”, but he got it right more often than not.

The event marked something of a debut for him as well, he realized. when Antoine

escorted him into what once had been an office or den. It now functioned as a de facto
throne room for the man who lay lengthwise on a loveseat that sat on a raised platform.

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The recliner looked up lazily as they entered the room. Five large men and three
attractive women surrounded him. They went tense and watchful as Antoine and
Michael approached.

“Your Majesty.” Antoine went to one knee before him and Michael followed his

lead.

The king straightened on the loveseat and then stood. “Rise,” he said. “You bring

someone new into our ranks, Antoine?” The king gave Michael a long, curious stare.

“May I present Michael Carpenter to you, Your Majesty?”
Michael dipped his chin again.
“Approach,” the king ordered.
Keeping his head down, Michael walked up to him.
The king stepped off the dais to meet him, walked completely around him, and

then, with no warning, slugged him with a hard right fist to the jaw. Michael spun back
and away, slamming into the wall of the room, but staying on his feet.

Anger sparked an aggressive instinct he’d never known was there, and he stalked

back to the middle of the room, fists raised. Two of the king’s guards jumped down off
the dais to intercept him. Somewhere between the wall and the king, though, his brain
kicked back in. Michael restrained himself, just glaring at the man rather than
pummeling him. The guards stopped and waited.

The king stared at him for a moment, ignoring the fists, then turned carelessly

away. “He might do,” the man pronounced after he stepped up onto the dais again. He
waved a hand, dismissing them.

“Let’s go,” Antoine said.
“But, what—?”
“Let’s go. It was a test. You passed. There’s another pair waiting.”
Michael stepped back, making way for a smallish man accompanied by a truly huge

one. The larger one was the newcomer. Michael hung back, wanting to see what
happened this time.

The smaller man introduced the large one to the king. The king repeated the

sequence he’d visited on Michael, circling the big man, then throwing a fist that drove
him to the wall. Instead of getting up, though, the giant slid down into a crouch and
crossed his arms over his head. It shocked Michael to see such a big man cringe so. It
didn’t impress the king, who sneered and shook his head. One of the guards moved
forward, holding a stake. He stopped to glance at the king, who nodded.

Before anyone could blink, the guard was on top of the cringing giant. The stake

flashed down, embedding itself in the big man’s unprotected chest. The man’s arms
flew up, eyes and mouth opened wide, but the scream never emerged. Instead he slid
down further, then flopped onto his other side, and lay there, very obviously dead.
Truly dead this time. Two of the guards dragged him out a side door.

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Antoine put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and guided him out to the main part of

the house. “He failed. Often it’s the ones you least expect who fail.”

Michael just shook his head, still in shock from the way the man had been

dispatched with such summary judgment. The viciousness of it bothered him. The
lawyer in him wanted to protest the lack of any kind of trial, or even a crime committed,
for that matter. But this was a different world he’d entered, a more ruthless one,
obviously. He’d have to adjust to it.

They got drinks and talked to a few more people before Antoine said, “I hear the

interesting games are upstairs. Shall we go look in?”

The words sent a frisson of uneasiness along Michael’s spine, but he couldn’t say

why, so he followed Antoine up a wide, grand staircase to the second floor. The crowd
gravitated toward a room at the far end of the hall. An acquaintance of Antoine waved
and said, “Good sport so far tonight. You almost missed it all. They’re bringing out the
last one now.”

“The last what?” Michael asked.
“You’ll see.” They had to push through a coterie of milling vampires to get into the

room, which held nothing but a single four-poster bed, a small table and several chairs.
People stood around the room, mostly near the walls, talking to each other. They went
quiet as a cheer rose from those out in the hall.

A group of vampires entered, dragging a young female into the room with them.

She screamed and struggled, terror turning her face into a rictus of open mouth, wide
eyes and wild hair flying. Despite her wriggling and scratching, they got her spread out
on the bed and shackled her hands and feet to the posts. Michael stared in horror as he
realized she was human, not vampire.

He turned to Antoine. “What are they doing to her?”
“Watch and see.”
“No.” He moved toward the men binding the girl to the bed, intent on fighting for

her release.

Antoine snagged his sleeve and dragged him back. “Don’t interfere,” he warned.

“Just watch.”

Michael didn’t catch any signal, but moments later four others had latched onto

him, holding onto his arms, shoulders, hair and waist, pinning him securely among
them.

They held some kind of lottery to be the first in line. A heavyset, fortyish woman,

who looked like she might be a teacher at your local school under other circumstances,
won. She approached the terrified girl on the bed, eyes narrowed in evil concentration.
She opened her mouth to show canine teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs.

The girl on the bed screamed. The smell of her fear permeated the room. “Help

me,” she begged, staring wildly around the room. Her eyes met Michael’s and lingered.
“Please, please, help me!”

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He lunged forward, hoping to wriggle free of their grasp and get to the girl, but

hands tightened around him, holding him fast.

Antoine spun him to face him. “Look at me.”
Unthinking, Michael looked into his eyes.
“Watch and don’t move again until I release you,” Antoine ordered.
To his shock and horror, Michael realized Antoine did have that much control over

him. Against his will, he found his gaze locked on the girl and his body unable to move.

The girl looked around wildly, saw the woman advancing on her, fangs at the

ready, and screamed again and again in increasing terror and desperation. She
struggled wildly against the bindings, tearing the skin of her wrists in her frenzy to
escape.

The smell of blood incited the crowd, who began to yell encouragement as the

fanged woman stood over the bed. The girl’s screams died down. She moaned and
began to cry. The crowd cheered the appearance of the tears.

Michael felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know if he could still throw up, but he

could certainly feel nausea. He couldn’t even move enough to struggle.

The older woman dipped her head cautiously. The girl wriggled, moaned and cried

harder. The woman almost made it to the girl’s neck, but tears dripped down that side
of her face and the woman pulled back to avoid them. She reached out and grabbed the
girl’s hair to pin her head in place. Holding her face to one side, the older woman went
for the throat again, but didn’t manage to avoid the tears entirely. She got one fang
embedded and drew blood, but then she suddenly reared back, shrieking and holding
her face, and ran from the room, still yelling curses.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they’d let the girl go.
Wrong.
They drew lots again and a slim, lethal-looking young man stepped up next to the

bed. Within moments, he’d sunk his fangs deep into the girl’s neck, easily evading the
tears, and began sucking the life out of her.

* * * * *

“They killed her.” Michael sighed and looked at Carol. “Right there in front of me,

while I watched. Not fast. At least half a dozen of them drank from her before they took
too much and she died. I wanted so badly to do something, anything, to save her. I
couldn’t do a damn thing about it. They’re monsters. You see why I don’t want to be
one of them? I won’t be one of them. No matter what it costs.”

“It’s going to cost you your life, isn’t it?”
“I died one hundred years ago. This isn’t life, it’s not-death. I can’t go out in the

daylight and I don’t dare spend too much time in the presence of other people for fear
the blood hunger will overwhelm me. Or they’ll ask too many questions about who I
am. I don’t want to go on this way. I can’t anyway. By tomorrow I either drink human

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blood and become full vampire or I truly die. I’ve made my decision. Now I’ve just got
to stick with it.”

“Is there no way to…get back your life? You were such a young man when they

turned you.”

He shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “I asked Kurt Severin about it, the man I first

talked to when I woke. He became a pretty good friend. He said he’d heard rumors
there was a way, but he didn’t know anything more about how it was done. He’d never
heard of anyone managing it, so he’d pretty much decided it was just a rumor or myth.
I’ve done a bunch of research since and I’ve found a couple of hints, but they sound so
arcane I can’t imagine them working. They all involve someone else’s help, in any case.
Someone human.”

“Tell me.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“It’s not something I’d want anyone to try. It’s…tricky at best, and definitely

dangerous.”

“I’d like to include it in your record. Maybe it will benefit someone else someday.”
He stopped to consider that for a moment before he nodded. “All right. It’s kind of

messy too. And it has to be done outside, during the day, with an undead who hasn’t
yet drunk human blood. He goes out in the sun to die, lies on the ground and opens a
vein so that some of his blood runs into the ground. When he’s close to death, but not
quite there yet, a human has to offer some of his or her blood. It has to be when the
vampire is too weak to be able to draw the life essence on his own because it can’t be
taken or it won’t work. It has to be freely offered with the human in control of how
much is given.”

He shook his head at her. “It’s very dangerous, because the timing has to be perfect.

If the vampire has any strength left at all, he’ll drain the human and become a vamp.
And immediately die too, since he’ll be out in the daylight. I’d prefer not to risk anyone
else. I’m reconciled with dying. I’d prefer it to life as a vampire. The only thing I truly
fear is that I won’t be able to control myself in the final spasm of bloodlust.”

“I see.” Carol scribbled notes on her pad. “All right, I’m including it in my notes.”

She stopped and waited for him, but he just stared into the fire. Finally she prompted,
“How did you end up here?”

He dragged himself out of the introspection with an effort. “I mentioned my family

lived not far away? After I ran away from Antoine, I spent some time with Kurt, then I
retreated to here. I wanted to be somewhere away from both the vampires and their
horrible company and the humans who would become a near unbearable temptation.
When this place came on the market, I bought it. Back in those days, you could still buy
a house with cash and not much paperwork. In fact, it was about the only way you
could buy it. I—”

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He stared at her. She saw it rising this time, the tension starting in his body, the first

flash of red in his eyes.

Remembering his advice, she looked down, focusing on his mouth rather than his

eyes. Without taking her gaze off him, she set down the pen and shifted the stake into
her right hand, holding it ready should he move toward her. His lips parted as fangs
elongated. Deep grooves showed in his cheek and his jaw tightened with either pain or
effort. Muscles tightened all up and down his lean frame. Chest tilted forward and
knees clenched.

His fingers curled again and dug into the leather of the chair, holding onto it with

all the strength of his will.

It was worse this time.
His breath heaved in great, gulping gasps, interrupted by sighing moans that came

close to sobs. He tried to suppress them. She could see the effort he made to hold it
back, but some leaked past his control. Those lengthened into a continual, low keening
growl that went on for several, long minutes. She knew because she could just hear the
ticking of the clock in the hall over the noise he made.

She almost cried just listening to him struggle against what must have been

considerable pain. How did he manage to resist and bear it when the answer, the cure,
sat no more than eight feet away? Her left hand crept to her throat, clasping the silver
cross on its chain.

Finally, when she doubted her nerves could take much more of his anguish, the

moaning began to fade. The tension drained from him and his mouth closed again, the
fangs retracting. She saw the last of the red glow vanish from his eyes as she met his
gaze again. He collapsed back in the chair, his body almost sinking into itself. He closed
his eyes.

He looked terrible, his face growing leaner and looking older by the moment.

Suffering etched harsh lines into his cheeks and at his temples. The pale skin under his
eyes showed dark shadows. The hands now resting on the arms of the chair trembled.

She sighed and got to her feet. “I can’t do this.” She snagged her coat, shrugged into

it and grabbed her purse as she headed for the door, forgetting his advice about turning
her back on him. She whirled when she heard him following her, but no threat showed
on his ravaged face. Just worry.

“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Leaving. I can’t do this to you.”
His brows pulled together in a frown. He went to the door, opened it and looked

out. “It’s still snowing and there are three inches or more on the ground already. You
won’t even make it back to your car in this.” He closed the door and stood with his back
against it. “Carol— It was Carol, right? A Christmas Carol?” He managed a tight,
painful grin. “You can’t go now. It’s suicide. The weather’s deadly, it’s almost two
o’clock in the morning and I have no way to get help for you. Beside, I’d rather you
stay.”

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“So you’ll have a convenient drink handy if the thirst gets too much for you?”
He winced. “No. It’s just that… I just realized… You’re not making it any harder. In

fact— This is selfish. So incredibly selfish. But I realized I don’t want to die alone. And
having you here reminds me why I’d rather die than finish the transformation.”

She felt like kicking herself for the cruel dig. He deserved better, if only for the two

times he’d already restrained himself with such effort.

The clock chimed the hour again. Two o’clock. She was surprised at how fast the

two hours since midnight had passed while Michael told his story. She’d missed the bell
for one entirely, probably while he was telling his story. As if the clock’s sound was a
cue, the mist began to gather next to him in the hall, coalescing rapidly into the form of
Antoine again.

“Michael, that was sooooo sweet,” he said. “If I could still cry, I probably would.

How are you holding out, by the way? Have the convulsions started yet?”

Antoine laughed at their expressions. “You didn’t know about that? I suppose that

means they haven’t. I’m too early to enjoy the show. Oh, yes, it’s going to get very much
worse before you’re done.”

He looked at Carol. “I’m surprised you’re still here. You’ve seen the monster in him,

and in truth, as they say, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”

He laughed again. “Obviously I got here a bit too early for the real entertainment.

I’ll take my leave. But don’t worry. I’ll be back when things get more interesting.”

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Chapter Four

Once he was gone, Michael went to the fireplace and piled a few more logs onto the

waning blaze, allowing Carol the choice of going outside anyway or coming back in
without his interference.

“He has a point,” Michael said, keeping his back to her.
She watched him for a few minutes, while debating pros and cons. Michael roused

such contradictory emotions. She pitied him, admired him and feared him. She wanted
to hug him, make him better. She wanted to run away and hide from him. She hated the
thought of him dying, but agreed it would be better than the alternative. He fascinated
her and horrified her at the same time.

Given the weather, the time of day and the empty countryside, running away might

well kill her. Stay and he might kill her. Which was more likely? Probably freezing to
death. She took her coat off. Only as she did that did she realize she still held the wood
stake he’d given her. She shifted it to her other hand long enough to get her arms out of
the sleeves, then she returned to the chair in the living room.

Michael still stood at the fireplace, prodding the blaze with the poker. After a

moment, he straightened and turned. “Thank you for staying.” His face looked even
more drawn than earlier and she suspected he was still in some pain.

“I debated which looked more immediately fatal, you or the weather. The weather

won.”

He tried for a grin and almost made it.
Carol tried to stifle a yawn and failed completely.
“You’re tired. You want to take a nap? There are several rooms made up upstairs.

Let me show you.”

“Under the circumstances, I doubt I’d sleep a wink. But it might be a good idea to

show me where that room with the sturdy lock is, in case I need it.”

He nodded and led the way out to the hall and up the stairs.
“You seem to be pretty comfortable with modern stuff,” she said as they climbed to

the second floor. “I noticed the TV and DVD. You have a dish too?”

Michael shrugged. “The satellite receiver? Yes. I have a lot of time on my hands. It

lets me keep up with what’s going on in the world.”

“I know this is probably a rude question, but… Where do you get the money?”
He turned to her and smiled. “It is a sort of rude question. And a perfectly normal

one. I’d be curious too. It’s a bit complicated, of course, since legally I’m dead. But there
are ways. When I first returned here, it wasn’t hard at all since everything was done in

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cash and you didn’t have all the paperwork you do now. I managed to set up a bank
account. I did odd jobs for people that could be done at night. I began doing research on
a freelance basis and actually made quite a lot of money at that. I also started investing
in the stock market in the teens and put a lot more in right after the depression. I saw
lots of things happening then. I had one big lucky break. I invested heavily in Coca-Cola
stock back in the late teens. That alone has made me pretty well off today. But the
research was pretty lucrative back in the days before the Internet made information so
widely and easily available. I could travel very fast and communicate things to others
much more rapidly than they could get them by any other means in those days. Now,
there’s not much demand for it, but I can live on what I’ve earned and invested.”

“What do you do when you have to file paperwork and someone wants your birth

date?”

He led her to an attractive room off the main hall on the front side of the house.

“This is the nice guest bedroom and it has a good lock on the door. Deadbolt. But don’t
depend on that if you have to retreat here. Keep the stake handy too. Vampires can be
strong. Strong enough to knock down doors if we get really desperate.” He stared hard
at her, the blue of his eyes shadowed and dark. “I may well get that desperate. Okay?”

“Okay.”
“Stay here now, or come back downstairs?”
“Back downstairs,” she said. “For now.”
He nodded and led the way again. “The documentation thing has been tricky,” he

admitted. “Until the whole immigration hubbub started, though, it wasn’t hard. I’ve
had to die and be reborn a couple of times, passing my estate on to my ‘heir’.
Fortunately I won’t have to worry about doing it again, since it would be much harder
now.”

As they got to the bottom of the stairs, he asked, “Refill on the coffee?”
She considered the rest of the night—or more accurately, early morning—that

loomed ahead. “Yes, please.”

Again it struck her as funny that a vampire who threatened her life should be so

oddly polite at the same time.

He went back to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a pot of fresh

coffee. After taking a moment to pour her another cup, they sat down again.

She sought for a topic of conversation when the silence stretched out a hair too

long. “Tell me about your family,” she asked. “How did you celebrate Christmas
before?”

He made it to a real smile this time, though it was gone within moments. “I had two

brothers and a sister. I left home for school at sixteen, but I always returned for the
holidays, even when I got my degree and moved to Atlanta—until that last year, when I
stayed to celebrate Christmas with Lucy’s family and to propose to her.”

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His face darkened for a moment until he dismissed that memory to concentrate on

happier ones. She watched his expression lighten, erasing some of the deepest lines. “I
had a great family and Christmas was a wonderful time. My mother would bake for a
week ahead of time so we had an abundance of cakes, pies and cookies. The house
smelled unbearably wonderful with the aroma of it. Of course, my brothers and I would
sneak into the kitchen every chance we got and try to snatch some. We got our hands
smacked for it a couple of times. My mother made the best sugar cookies.

“And my father and I would go out on Christmas Eve to find the perfect tree and

bring it back. We had a special bucket we’d put the cut end in, then shovel in enough
dirt all around it to hold it upright. In theory. In fact, it kept tipping over. Or the tree
would slide to one side… We had lots of fun getting it to stand up straight. We had a
couple of glass ornaments my dad bought for my mom, but most of our decorations
were made of paper or beads or pieces of tin we cut and hammered into different
shapes. There was no electricity in this area in those days and my dad wouldn’t risk
putting candles on the tree except for while we ate Christmas dinner.”

The fire popped and he turned to stare into it for a moment. His voice changed,

getting rougher and deeper when he added, “I watched them afterward, though I tried
not to get too close. Watched the kids grow up, get married, have kids of their own,
Mom and Pop grow old and die, then the kids got old and died and so did their kids…”

He looked at her, his eyes shadowed with sadness. Tremors shook him periodically,

but he didn’t mention them or react except with an occasional sharp, indrawn breath.
“The worst, but in some ways also the best, memory of my undead time was a
Christmas about fifteen years after I’d been turned. I never feel the cold or heat
anymore, so I stood in the snow outside and looked in and listened, though I made sure
they didn’t see me.”

* * * * *

Children raced back and forth across the room, sometimes scooting out to the

porch, where the chill wind soon fetched them back inside. They yelled with high
spirits and tried not to look too hard and too longingly at the pile of colorfully wrapped
packages under the Christmas tree. Three of the children belonged to his brother John,
two to David and one to his sister, Jenny. Her handsome, sandy-haired husband held an
infant while Jenny helped his mother convey food from kitchen to the table. John’s wife
mashed potatoes in the kitchen, while David’s stirred a pot of gravy.

Pop sat in a chair, with a blanket tucked around him, watching the chaos of

preparation and children’s play. He looked thinner and grayer than Michael
remembered. It shocked him to realize Pop was an old man.

Once dinner was ready, everyone gathered round the table. His father stood to say

the blessing.

“Lord, thank you for bringing us all together again this holy day. Thank you for the

gift of your son given to us on this same day so many years ago. Thank you for the gift

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of love and family and food you’ve graced us with and the many other benefits you’ve
given us this year. And, Lord, we remember the one person who should be here with us
this day, but isn’t. We’ll never forget Michael and can only hope that he is with you in
paradise this day. Amen.”

There was such sadness in Pop’s voice, even after all these years, it felt like

something tearing inside him.

“Who is Michael?” one of the children asked.
“He was your uncle, your father’s brother,” Pop said. “He disappeared on

Christmas Eve fifteen years ago and we don’t know what ever happened to him. No
one has heard from him.”

“Wow! You think he might have decided to run away or something?”
Pop shook his head. “He was planning to ask his young lady to marry him. We

know he left his boarding house to go to her home that evening. But he never arrived.
We can only guess he was set on by robbers and they hid his…hid him somewhere. I
suppose we’ll never know now.”

“Cool. A mystery!”
Pop smiled sadly and Michael could almost read his thoughts. The children had

never known him, so they had no particular interest in or feeling for him. Why should
they? They barely understood death and tragedy yet, and that was as it should be.

“We’ll grow up to be detectives,” the boy promised. “And we’ll solve the mystery

of what became of him.”

“Yeah,” one of the others chimed in. “Like in those stories you read to us about

Sherlock Holmes.”

* * * * *

“They didn’t, of course,” Michael said. “They forgot all about it and went on with

their lives. I’ve kept half an eye on them and their descendants all these years. Some of
them still live in the old family place.”

He sighed and shook his head. The motion continued as a nasty shaking that spread

through him and lasted a couple of minutes before he got control of it.

“I couldn’t stand to think Mom and Pop would die not knowing anything about

me. One night, shortly before Pop died, I snuck into the house and into his bedroom.
My mother was there with him, sitting beside the bed. I stayed in the shadows in the
room and they thought I was a ghost. I told them I was okay, that I’d been attacked that
night in Atlanta and killed. I let them think I was a spirit, come to ease Pop’s last hours.
I couldn’t bear for them to know the truth. They’d be horrified. Fortunately, because I
can move so quickly, I was able to come and go without them realizing I just ran in and
out. I didn’t stay long. I don’t even know if it made them feel better or worse.”

His lips curled in a wry twist. “I’m sure they’re in heaven, so I guess they know the

truth now. I wonder what they think.”

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The clock tolled three o’clock.
Michael shrugged then, and a wry, sad smile spread across his face. “I guess I’ll

find out shortly. Just a few more hours to dawn.” Another series of tremors shook him,
and flashes of red showed in his eyes. It took him longer to get control again. He shut
his eyes in concentration and kept as still as he could manage for several long minutes.
Finally he drew in a long breath and opened his eyes again. “I’ve talked enough about
myself and probably depressed you half to death.”

His deep blue eyes held a world of shadows and trouble when he looked at her, but

no hints of red for the moment. “Help me make it through the rest of this.” His voice
shook just a little. “Distract me. Tell me about your family. Your most memorable
Christmas.”

Carol stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should go lock herself in the

room upstairs. But he wanted her help. Needed it. She couldn’t find it in her to refuse.

When he asked about memorable Christmases, one came immediately to mind. She

laughed as she recalled it. “Well, the one I remember best wasn’t exactly your postcard
pretty sort of Christmas. In fact, we call it ‘The Year Christmas Fell Apart’.”

His lips quirked in a grin. “Did it actually fall apart? Literally?”
“Pretty much. You have to understand that my family isn’t your picture-postcard

sort of family to begin with. I’m the middle one of three kids. I have a flaky older sister,
an annoyingly brainy younger brother and a pair of eccentric parents. The year
Christmas fell apart was about five years ago. I was in college at the time, but home for
the holidays. By then, my sister Laura was married and had two small children, a three-
year-old toddler, Matthew, and the baby, Sally. Her husband was in the military,
deployed overseas. She missed him and worried about him, and sometimes she would
lose track of where the toddler was.

“Anyway, some things don’t change much. My mother bakes up a storm before

Christmas too—cookies, sweet breads, rolls. Unfortunately she’s not very good at it.
She’s kind of forgetful and easily distracted, especially when she’s working on a project.
She’s a game designer—does scripts for video games. Sometimes she’ll have an idea
while she’s got something in the oven and just goes ‘to jot it down’, and the next thing
you know, you can smell it burning all over the house.

“Anyway, this particular year, Laura’s kids were all over the place. My mother

burned at least three pans of cookies and cooked a loaf of banana bread so hard it could
double as a paving stone. I tried to help out as much as I could, but I kind of had my
hands full too, since I had to do all my shopping and wrapping as well—and shopping
and wrapping for my dad too, since he won’t venture near a retail place in the month of
December. Or just about any other month either, unless the place sells electric trains.

“Trains are his hobby, his passion, and December is when he really puts it on

display. Remember when it was all the rage to set up a train set under the Christmas
tree?”

Michael shrugged. “Not really.”

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“Well it was,” Carol said. “In the fifties or sixties, I think. My dad never quit. In fact,

his under-the-tree layouts have gotten bigger and more elaborate each year. It now
takes up almost a third of the living room. So, anyway, the day before Christmas I go
out to do some last-minute shopping, with a pretty long list for both my dad and
myself, plus a couple of requests from my sister. I’m gone most of the day and get back
right at supper time. I don’t know how to explain to you what it’s like to go shopping
the day before Christmas. Trying to find a parking place, the crowds, people pushing
and shoving to get things, empty shelves, long, long lines at the checkouts… Anyway, I
was pretty frazzled by the time I got finished.”

A tight smile curled his lips. “I’ve seen movies. I have some idea.”
“By the time I got back to the house, I wasn’t in a great mood, but the chaos at the

shopping center didn’t begin to prepare me for what I found at home. I got there right
in time for the show.”

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Chapter Five

Carol smelled cookies baking the moment she struggled in the door, trying to hold

onto three plastic bags in each hand. The noise hit her at about the same time. Yells,
cries from the adults, screeches from the kids and a sound that explained some things
and mystified her even more at the same time. A series of barks.

She glanced into the living room where her father leaned over the tracks of his train

layout with a bemused look on his face. Everyone else was down the hall, attempting to
squeeze into the guest bedroom. Three-year-old Matthew toddled on his own toward
them. Squeals, shouts and several voices yelling directions continued back there, along
with more sharp barks. The baby bawled her own demand for attention.

“Who got the dog?” Carol asked.
“Laura decided Matt was ready for a puppy.” Her father’s dry tone told her exactly

what he though about Matt’s readiness.

“She’s kind of lonely without Mark. Maybe she wanted the company.”
Her father shook his head. “Can’t keep up with her own kids. Don’t see how she’s

going to manage a dog too.”

“Maybe it’ll help her learn a bit more responsibility.”
“You think a dog will, when the—”
The action down the hall took a sudden, dramatic turn, when a small, fast-moving

mop of brown fur rushed out of the guest room door, neatly dodging several hands
stretched out to grab him, and raced toward them on four short, madly pumping legs.
He nearly knocked down poor Matthew as he barreled along, but the child just giggled,
recovered his balance and turned around to follow.

The dog hopped up onto the raised platform her dad used for his trains and raced

across it, scattering pieces of track not yet tacked down, train cars, plastic buildings,
light poles and even a few unfortunate miniature people as he scampered across. By a
major miracle, he missed the Christmas tree that sat in the center of the train layout. It
shook a bit, dropping a few strands of tinsel across the tracks, but remained upright.
The barrel roller gizmo her father had bought the previous year was less fortunate. It
tumbled completely off the wooden support onto the rug under the dog’s feet.

Her father shot to his feet, using a word he almost never used in the presence of his

family.

“Daniel Prescott!” Her mother might forget to take the cookies out of the oven, but

she had great hearing, especially for those words. “The children!”

“Sorry, Jan,” he said to her mother, who was rushing back toward them along the

hall. Matthew had already toddled past, chasing the puppy, but at least he went around

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the train platform rather than across it. The dog charged into the dining room and on
through to the kitchen, tongue hanging out and eyes bright. Carol could almost swear
he was smiling. Her mother, her brother and Laura raced that way, passing Matthew
again. They were halfway through the dining room when the dog charged back out of
the kitchen, running as fast as his stubby little legs could manage, ears flapping and tail
wagging. He went through the dining room on the other side of the table to avoid his
pursuers.

Once again he almost bowled over Matthew as he ran back into the living room. Far

from being bothered, the child turned and followed, giggling loudly.

Her father had just begun to put the track back together and right the overturned

buildings when the dog hopped up onto the platform again and charged across it. “Oh,
he—” He bit off the curse, but swatted at the dog, who veered around him.

The swat was a bad idea. In swerving to avoid it, the dog crashed into the trunk of

the Christmas tree right where the lowest, thickest branch joined it. He bounced off and,
undaunted, chugged across the platform, jumped off the other side and raced down the
hall toward the bedrooms.

In his wake, the tree stand tipped and the whole Douglas fir wobbled. Carol and

her father both grabbed at it. Each got hold of a branch and managed to keep it upright.

Until Matthew, following the dog more precisely this time, climbed up onto the

platform and toddled through already scattered train cars, miniature buildings and
people. He almost stepped on one of the engines, missed it and began to teeter himself.
Carol and her father both reached out to prevent him from taking a nasty fall, letting go
of the tree.

They each got a hand on one of the toddler’s arms and steadied him. Bereft of

support, though, the tree wobbled and fell over on top of them. She heard Matthew
laughing, so presumably he’d wasn’t hurt.

A large branch hit her back and knocked her to her knees. A corner of one of the

freight cars poked into her hand and something else bit into her shin. Prickly branches
sat on her shoulders, her head and one large one rested against her left elbow. Pine
needles tickled her nose. Plastic icicles dripped down her face and clung to her clothes.
Colored glass balls rolled down the tree and plopped on her before continuing their
death plunge onto the wood platform. A candy cane slid down the front of her sweater.
The smell of pine surrounded her.

“Damnation.” Pine needles dropped into her mouth as if to punish her for the

profanity. She spat them out again.

“Carol, not in front of the kids,” her mother shouted, followed by, “Oh no! Oh my

goodness, what happened?”

“Laura,” Carol yelled, “Come get your son before he does any more damage.”

Which was a little unfair, but not much. “Jason, Mom, get this blinking tree off us.”

Her father was equally entangled in the fragrant greenery. When he wriggled,

trying to get the needles out of his eyes, it shook the tree even more. A few more

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ornaments fell off and plopped against the wood. Amazingly, some of them landed
intact and rolled off the platform onto the floor.

Jason and her mother heaved the tree up and off them. Carol turned and lent a

hand to getting it set upright and making sure it was stable in the stand. More pine
needles dripped out of her hair each time she moved her head. A few had caught in her
sweater and poked her through it.

Laura picked up her rambunctious son and managed to snag the equally

enthusiastic puppy in her other arm as it ran back by. She disappeared into the guest
bedroom with her giggling child tucked in one arm and the yipping puppy in the other,
leaving behind the destruction they’d wrought.

Carol, Jason and their father gathered up the undamaged ornaments and returned

them to the tree while her mother got a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shards of
those that hadn’t survived.

They hadn’t quite finished cleaning that up when the smoke detector outside the

kitchen began to scream a warning. Carol looked up, startled. She’d been so involved in
the chase and the tree that she hadn’t really noticed the smell of smoke. Besides, they
were all used to her mother burning things, so it didn’t always register.

“My pie!” her mother screamed and headed for the kitchen. The smell had grown

stronger as tendrils of dark smoke floated into the living room.

“Wait,” she called as her mother reached for the oven door. “Don’t open it. Just turn

it off.” Carol followed her into the kitchen. A look through the oven’s window
confirmed her suspicion. Little tongues of flame lit the area inside. Her mother glanced
at her, nodded and reached carefully for the switch to flip it off.

Carol dug in the pantry closet and found the fire extinguisher. After pulling out the

pin, she waited. It took a few minutes, but without the heat feeding them, the flames
finally died down. She continued to watch it while her mother went around opening
windows and propping doors ajar to let in fresh, cold December air.

Two pots sitting on the stove-top were emitting suspicious aromas as well.

Gingerly, keeping the fire extinguisher handy, she raised lids. One pot held a thick
orangy-red sludge that smelled like very burnt tomato sauce. The other one still had
half an inch of water in the bottom, with a large gooey lump of badly overcooked pasta
sitting in the middle. She turned the heat off under both.

From back in the guest room, she heard the dog yip and whine. She hoped it meant

Laura had him contained somehow. Then Matthew started whining as well.

Carol carefully opened the oven door. Nothing flamed up again, but the oven was a

disaster, with semi-carbonized blobs of goo all over the place and a pile of it at the
bottom. What was supposed to be an apple pie looked like a charred cardboard disc
surrounding sticky black lumps.

She put both pots to soak in the sink, but the pie pan was a goner. It went into a

trash bag along with its contents and the contents of both pots. Carol trotted the bag

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right out to the trash bin outside. By the time she got back, her mother stood in the
kitchen, considering the mess with a bemused expression.

“I guess we’ll have to open some cans for dinner,” she said.
Carol nodded.
They ate canned spaghetti and wieners, canned green beans and canned fruit for

dinner. Afterward they hung stockings, Laura disappeared to put Matt to bed and her
mom broke out the eggnog. Her father added a dollop of bourbon to everyone’s cup but
Jason’s. She noticed he put a second, larger dash in his own cup. Someone had swept up
the glass and rearranged the ornaments on the tree to reduce the gaps left by the
missing and broken decorations.

Normally she loved sitting around with her family in front of the fire on Christmas

Eve, but the day had been too long. Besides, she still had wrapping to do. After just half
an hour of the usual reminiscing about Christmases past and the year getting close to its
finish, Carol retired to her room and raced through the wrapping so she could get to
bed.

The next day started shaky and got worse. The baby woke them all at four thirty,

howling at the top of her lungs. Matthew got up then too, and was ready to tear into the
pile of presents stacked around the barely rescued train set under the barely rescued
tree.

The gift opening actually went pretty smoothly once Matthew had shredded the

wrappings of all his toys and been convinced that the packages weren’t all for him. He
sat and cuddled the puppy, for which Laura had created a makeshift leash from an old
belt and some rope, while the adults exclaimed over their gifts.

Carol got some wonderful things from her family, including a lovely sweater from

her mother, a nice stationery set and diary from Laura and even a cute poster from
Jason. Christmas, it appeared, was back on track.

Until she joined her mother in the kitchen later to help with preparations for dinner

and discovered that her mother had put the roast in the oven, but forgotten to turn it
on.

* * * * *

“We ended up having canned soup and sandwiches for Christmas dinner,” Carol

said. “Now, every year, I go in and make sure she’s remembered to turn the oven on.”

“Your family is amaz—”
Michael’s fingers twitched, then the shaking began to spread to his arms and torso.

“Don’t— Don’t get close,” he warned. “Stay…away.” The tremors grew worse and he
closed his eyes, his body tensing as he struggled for control.

The shaking grew so violent, he fell off the chair onto the floor, where he lay

writhing and making odd choking noises. Carol stood and moved toward him to see if
she could help, until his eyes opened. They shone with a blood-red glow.

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She backed away, praying he wouldn’t follow. She stopped after a few steps. He

had so little control of himself just then that he couldn’t threaten her as long as she
didn’t get too close. The stake was still in her left hand, so she moved it to her right
again, holding it ready should he recover suddenly.

He lay on the floor, writhing uncontrollably, flipping over to roll a few times, then

doing an odd swimming motion on the rug. All the while, he continued to shake and
his breath became a loud series of pants, broken by the occasional moan. It went on for
much longer than any of the previous spells, ten or fifteen minutes at least.

Her heart twisted with pity and fear. No one deserved to suffer like this, no matter

what he’d done. And Michael had done nothing. All this had come about because he’d
tried to help an unfortunate victim, and now he was struggling not to do something
evil.

The clock struck four while she waited. Carol half expected Antoine to materialize

again, since he’d shown up the last time right on the hour of two. He didn’t, though.

Michael’s breath puffed in and out on a series of hard pants as he writhed on the

floor. She found it nearly unbearable to watch, yet she didn’t dare take her eyes off him.
She couldn’t tell how conscious and aware he was, but he was most definitely in pain. A
lot of it.

Watching it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but she dared not

look away either. It half killed her to just stand there, staring, unable to do a damned
thing to help ease him. Not even touch him or hold him or brush hair out of his face.

After ten minutes, she felt sick to her stomach, wondering if he would come out of

it again or whether these were his death throes. He twisted harder, body bending
double, then straightening into rigid lines. His breath became thready and harsh. The
choking sounds that followed the radical tension almost did her in.

But then he began to relax and the shaking calmed to just above a mild tremor. He

groaned, but it sounded more deliberate and less desperate. The rhythm of his
breathing changed. While still harsh, it lengthened to sound closer to normal. He didn’t
move, however, even when the tremors finally settled down to a more gentle quivering.

“Michael?” Carol took a hesitant step toward him and stopped. “Are you…?” She

shook her head. “Stupid question. Of course you’re not okay. Is there anything I can
do?”

He didn’t answer. He lay still, on his side, curled into a fetal tuck for several long

minutes. After a while, he roused and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He
shifted back to rest against the side of a chair, still seated on the floor.

Sharp lines incised his lean cheeks and around his eyes, which sank deeper into his

head than before. His pale skin had a sickly gray cast. Cheek and jaw-bones stood out in
harsh angles. For a few minutes, his head hung forward as though he had no strength to
hold it up.

When he did finally look up, she saw flashes of red in his eyes. Not steady, as they

had been before, or growing, but coming and going in winks of blood and fire.

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“Michael?”
His eyebrows rose.
“If I staked you right now, wouldn’t it put you out of your misery?”
“Yes, but please don’t. I want to die human, so I have to wait for dawn. Do it if I

threaten you, but otherwise, no. I want my soul back before I die.”

“All right. Is there…anything I can do? To help?”
He shook his head, but stopped. “Just talk to me. Tell me more…about yourself.

Why aren’t you married? You’re a very attractive woman. Don’t you want to have a
husband and a family?”

“Of course I do. But I guess I haven’t met the right man. My sister tells me I’m too

picky. She says I’ve read too many fantasy novels and I’m holding out for a hero.
Maybe it’s true too. And heroes are hard to come by these days. But most of the men
I’ve met… I don’t know. There isn’t any spark there. So I’m still waiting.”

“You want a prince, like in the fairy tales? How many frogs have you kissed?”
“Way too many. And swallowed a poisoned apple or two, pricked my finger a few

times, even tolerated a couple of beasts—until I realized they really were just beasts—
but still no prince galloping to the rescue. Actually, I don’t really need a prince or a
hero. Just the right man.”

“If not a prince or a hero, what do you want in a man?”
“I want a man who’s intelligent, strong—not so much physically, but in character—

kind, caring, has a good sense of humor, hard-working and likes kids, science fiction
movies and good food. Not so much, really, is it?”

He shrugged and struggled for a pain-filled grin. “Seems like you should find one

on every corner.”

“I wish.”
“What do you find on all those corners?”
“A lot of little boys in big boys’ bodies. More than a few who were so self-centered

they barely noticed what anyone else was doing. A few so focused on being successful,
they forgot to be real people. You get the picture. And I’m not really all that
demanding. Some of my terms are negotiable, like the food thing.”

“And you still haven’t found a good one. Shocking.”
Carol sighed. “I know. I sometimes wonder if I will. I’m almost twenty-seven now.”
“Just a baby. I’m a hundred and twenty-nine, you know.”
“And don’t look a day over a hundred and twenty-eight.”
“Flattery will— Oh, hell.”
Carol followed his line of sight to the mist forming behind her to the left. She

turned so that she could keep both Michael and Antoine in her line of sight. The
vampire formed quickly, the cloudy spot roiling for only a few seconds before it
coalesced.

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His handsome, cruel face broke into an ugly smile when he saw Michael sitting on

the floor and noted how he rested against the side of a chair as though lacking the
strength to push himself upright. Then the smile melted into an unconvincing attempt
at sympathy.

“Michael, you look terrible, dear boy.” The concern in his tone didn’t ring any truer

than his smile. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” He strolled across the room to
stand over the younger man. “It’s so unnecessary.”

“Totally necessary,” Michael said from between clenched teeth. “And forget the

fake sympathy. The only thing that concerns you is losing a slave. And maybe losing
face before the others because of it.”

Antoine shrugged. “It’s a concern, but not a great one. There are others where you

came from. But why are you wasting the gift I gave you?”

“Some kind of gift,” Michael answered bitterly. “A gift I neither sought nor wanted.

And not one you gave willingly.”

“A gift nonetheless. Immortality. Who doesn’t want it?”
“At the price of one’s soul? Because you get all those extra lifetimes by stealing

them from the people they belonged to?”

“They’re lesser creatures.” Antoine dismissed his victims with a wave of his hand.

“We’re superior in every way. Fast, powerful, immortal.”

“And completely immoral. Cowardly, soulless monsters.”
“There’s no reasoning with you, is there, Michael?”
“No.”
“I suppose I’ll just have to let the bloodlust do its work. You know that as long as

she’s here, you’ll never succeed. At the end you won’t be able to resist. Your will won’t
work anymore when the pain and need drive you insane.”

“Only a few more hours to go ‘til dawn. I can manage.”
Antoine shook his head and laughed. It sounded forced. “We’ll see. I think I’ll just

hang around to watch for a bit. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll dematerialize so
you won’t even know I’m here.” His form wavered and broke up, going to mist again,
then winking out of sight.

“Can you do that?” Carol asked Michael.
He shook his head. “Only true vampires can.”
“Is he gone?”
He struggled to sit up straighter. “Probably not. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t

change anything. I’ve just got to hold on…”

The word trailed off into a choked moan as another convulsion began to shake him.

It didn’t last as long this time, but was even more violent, sending his body into a series
of contortions after he fell over onto his side. He jerked and thrashed so hard the floor
vibrated and the furniture shook. She watched in horror as his body jackknifed into a

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tight V, his face almost against his knees, and then snapped back to bow in the other
direction, slamming him so hard it would have cracked the spine of a normal human
being.

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Chapter Six

He writhed on the floor for several more minutes, banging into chairs and even

rolling perilously close to the fire at one point.

Carol wanted to go to him, especially when he appeared to be in danger of getting

toasted, but didn’t dare. So she waited it out, listening to the seconds tick off from the
clock in the hall.

After a while, the convulsions seemed to abate, but when he opened his eyes, the

red color flickered in them again, then settled to a steady glow. Keeping his gaze fixed
on her, he rolled onto his belly and began crawling toward her. Carol made an effort
not to look too long into his eyes. It meant raking her gaze quickly down his face and
settling in to watch his mouth instead. That wasn’t a thrill either, since his lips formed a
vicious, open-mouthed frown that showed way too much teeth. The fangs glittered
with an orange-red glow as they reflected the firelight. It reminded her uncomfortably
of blood.

Pity turned to horror as she backed away, raising the stake in her right hand and

clasping the cross in the other. At least the ravaging effects of the convulsions robbed
him of the superhuman speed. It took a painful amount of time to pull himself just a
few feet across the carpet.

Worse were the sounds he made. The moans and groans were bad enough. Then he

started pleading, his voice thin and whiny, a stark contrast to his usual deep, mellow
tones. “I smell you. The blood…red blood. Please. Please! Need…the red blood. Come
closer, just a little closer.”

Instead she backed away another step or two, wincing as another convulsion ripped

through him, jerking his body like a boneless doll into contortions that had his arms
wrapped around his shoulders and legs bending up behind him so far his feet almost
reached his neck. Incoherent sounds—some shouts, some cut-off moans and a few
pleas—poured out of him until the spasms finally passed and left him sprawled on the
floor, arms and legs stuck out at odd angles. Nonetheless, he looked up, the red glow
flickering in his eyes, and began to creep in her direction again.

“Michael!” She raised the stake. “Stop. You don’t want to do this. Remember? You

want to die human.”

She considered running for the front door, but it was four thirtyish in the morning,

still dark and probably still snowing outside. If this pursuit didn’t stop soon, though,
she’d take her chances.

“Michael, please! Remember.”

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He halted and stared at her. The red glow flickered a few times, then his entire

body went tense and rigid. His eyes closed and his head dropped onto his extended
arms. For several long minutes, he lay there. His back heaved up and down five or six
times before that slowed along with his breathing.

Finally he rolled over onto his back. When he opened his eyes, the red glow was

gone, leaving only the dark blue irises around a black center. He remained still,
gathering his strength, for several minutes before he again got to a sitting position.
After a glance around, he levered himself up to his feet and staggered back to the
leather chair, where he all but collapsed into it.

“I can smell you,” he said. It was more a statement of fact than either warning or

plea. He rubbed his hands over his face. If he’d looked ravaged before, he approached
being skeletal now. The bones protruded sharply and his eyes had sunk deep into his
skull. His skin was the color of raw, unworked clay. Tremors, not huge convulsive ones,
but a fine series of quivers, shook him continually. “Probably better you don’t come any
closer.” Even the words seemed to be an effort.

“All right. I’ll stay here.”
A series of heavy breaths pumped in and out of him. “It’s— Talk to me again. Say

anything. Distract me. Do you have any plans for this Christmas?”

“Nothing special. I’ve got a few tins of cookies in the car. I expect my mom will

burn hers again. Of course, my brother claims he’s developed a taste for burnt cookies,
but I bet he eats mine first. So will Laura’s kids. We would have had eggnog last night
around the fire, but, frankly, I won’t miss that all that much. I’m not sure why everyone
likes eggnog so much. Probably that dab of bourbon my dad puts in it. I’d rather just
have my bourbon straight.”

“I still have trouble accepting that ladies drink so much now,” he said.
“They did back when you were alive,” she said.
“Not so much.”
“Maybe not. But you think all that cooking wine went into the food? And didn’t

they like to have a nip of sherry sometimes?”

“Yes, but that hardly counts.”
“You ever tried sherry?”
“No,” he admitted.
“It packs more punch than you expect.”
“All right. I concede. What else will you do on Christmas? Aside from eat the roast

you hope your mother will remember to put in the oven and the pies you hope she
manages not to burn too badly.”

“Actually, I’ve got a couple of pies in the back of the car too, but they’re probably

frozen by now. And I’ll remind her about the roast. If I get there.”

“You will. What about the morning? Christmas morning?”

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“The usual. The kids will wake us all up way too early, probably right about now,

in fact, to open their gifts. Paper and ribbons will fly. Boxes get torn open and pieces
scattered. Then the adults exchange their gifts, a bit slower, since we don’t all open
them at the same time. We go around the room, taking turns opening things to make it
last longer and so we can all enjoy each other’s gifts more. Then we’ll have coffee and
Laura’s coffee cake, one thing she does really well in the kitchen, before we start
working on dinner. Oh, and I forgot, on Christmas Eve—last night, I guess—my dad
and Mark, Laura’s husband, were probably sweating putting together that bike they got
Matt. Or maybe they got it preassembled. I don’t know.”

“You have to put together your bicycles yourselves?”
“You haven’t seen that in any movies? I guess I don’t recall seeing it either, but it’s

generally a scene ripe for comedy. Tab A never fits into slot B the way it’s supposed to
and sometimes they forget to include part number thirty-four. Or when you fit tab C
into slot D, tab A jumps out of slot B. It’s been known to reduce strong, smart men to
blobs of blubbering borscht.”

A harsh chuckle interrupted her. “Blubbering borscht? Dare I ask what that is?”
“Um, well, really, I don’t know. Borscht is some kind of Russian soup, I think. But it

sounded good, didn’t it?”

His breath heaved in and out as though even the laughter was an exertion that

threatened his fragile self-control. And he enjoyed it anyway. “It did.”

“I just made it up. Anyway, a couple of aunts and uncles and cousins will probably

come over to join us for dinner. The guys will find some sports thing to watch until
dinner, or if the weather’s nice, they’ll go out and throw a ball around themselves.
They’ll come in bruised, bleeding and covered in mud and tell us they had a great
game, but Cousin Andy cheated and moved before the snap. Then we’ll all sit down to
eat and stuff ourselves until we’re uncomfortable and go sit around the living room like
lead weights for a bit until someone drags out the games. We’ll play cards or something
until we’re ready to drop.”

Michael’s fingers dug deep into the leather and an occasional glow of red flickered

in his eyes. He tried to watch her as she talked, but had to look away periodically. “It
sounds like fun.” He swallowed hard and winced.

“It is…usually. Unless someone gets into an argument. It happens fairly often. I

guess we’re kind of a competitive bunch. My brother and a couple of my cousins are
especially prone to it. They don’t like to lose—at anything.”

Michael nodded. His face tightened, lips pressing together and lids narrowing. His

body was tight with the effort to hold himself in check.

Exhaustion started to make her feel heavy and listless, but she dared not let her

alertness fail. She was running out of conversational ideas, however.

“Michael? What would it be like to be a vampire? What would you be doing today

if you had…turned already?”

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“Tonight, you mean? Most likely I’d be out hunting. A vamp has to feed every few

days.”

“Hunting? Finding someone to feed on? How do you decide?”
“Usually you try to find someone who’s out alone at night. Someone who can’t

fight back. Or you try to take them by surprise and sink your fangs in before they even
know you’re there. It’s generally not hard to find someone out late by themselves, even
on Christmas Eve.”

He sighed and shook his head. “According to some of the books I’ve read recently,

it’s sort of okay to find criminals and lowlife types to feed from. I don’t buy it. Who set
us up as judges of who deserves to die? It’s still stealing a life. And a vampire has to do
that every few days. So I’d likely be out searching for some poor lonely soul, walking
somewhere on Christmas Eve or looking for a handout or plying their trade or maybe
just making last minute deliveries.”

“Couldn’t you feed on animals, like you’ve been doing?”
He shook his head. “Once you’ve drunk human blood, you crave it and nothing

else will do.”

“Would you truly be Antoine’s servant? Even after you became a true vamp?”
“Yes. He couldn’t completely control me, but he could exert a strong influence. He

already can if I forget and look into his eyes. Like I did that night at the feast.”

“And you’d never be free of him?”
“Until I or someone else disposed of him and took his place.”
The clock chimed five o’clock and they both listened to the five bells toll.
“How could you get rid of him?” Carol asked.
“Staking is the usual way, but if you want to be sure it’s permanent, beheading is

better. Or burning. Otherwise, if the stake is removed, the vamp can rise again.”

She shivered. “I think I’m sorry I asked. Can we talk about something more

cheerful?”

Michael nodded. A red flicker came and went in his eyes, so quickly she barely saw

it. “What do you do for a living?” he asked. “Since you’re not married, I assume you
have a job?”

“Yeah, but it’s really not exciting. I’m a junior accountant.”
“Do you like it?”
“Actually, I do. Everyone thinks I’m kind of weird. No one’s supposed to like

spending your time buried in numbers and reports. But I like making things add up
properly and I like finding hidden meanings in the numbers. They can tell you a lot
more than you think.”

“Such as?” he asked.
Pinpoints of red continued to flash off and on in his eyes, but for the most part, the

irises remained deep blue. The tension of his body didn’t abate, however, and she could

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see the effort it cost him to fight the need racking him. His fingers were about to poke
holes in the recliner’s leather arms and his long legs stretched out rigidly. His ankles
were crossed and pressed hard against each other. Every now and again he winced,
though he tried to suppress it, and an occasional small gasp worked its way past his
control.

“You can tell a lot about a company by reading the financial reports closely,” Carol

aid. “I once caught an employee of one of our clients embezzling. It wasn’t even all that
cleverly done. I’m not sure how he got away with it for as long as he did.”

“How did he do it and get away with it?”
“He was in charge of accounts payable. He and a friend created a dummy company

that sent in fake invoices. Of course, the invoices were always for expenses that looked
realistic. For a long time nobody questioned them. Until I noticed that the company
seemed to be spending a great deal more than usual on fuel. It was a trucking company
and, of course, they used a lot of it, so an increase of a few percentage points didn’t
really register with them, though it meant quite a nice bit of cash for the perpetrators.”

“Why wasn’t that clever?”
“Most companies try to stay on top of costs and keep them as low as possible. If

anyone had taken the trouble to look at fuel costs, they’d have seen right away
something was out of line. Apparently no one did, though, until I called their attention
to it.”

“How often do things like that happen?”
Carol shrugged. “Not that often really. Most of what I find that’s out of whack is the

result of honest mis—” She broke off when Michael started to shake again.

Moments later, he lay on the floor, writhing and twisting. Teeth snapped together

like castanets as he shook, while incoherent moans escaped him to rasp along her
nerves.

She hadn’t thought anything could be worse than the last episode, but this one was.

For a few minutes, he thrashed around so hard he knocked over an end table and
threatened several others. His body bent into positions the human frame wasn’t meant
to attain. All the while he grunted and gasped.

How aware was he of what was happening to him? The sounds he made were

almost animallike and the spasms clearly out of his control, but when he opened his
eyes, there were shreds of consciousness alternating with the red glow that indicated
his vampire hunger taking control.

Helpless pity made her stomach twist into a knot. Anger joined it as the spasms

continued and his grunts grew into louder groans. If Antoine had shown up right then,
she probably would have tried to stake him on the spot.

Then Michael started screaming. He tried to suppress it. But even his strong will

couldn’t hold them all back. They sometimes emerged as hideous gurgling sounds and
sometimes as anguished shrieks.

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She couldn’t bear it. That wrenching expression of sheer agony cut into her like a

knife, shredding her nerves and twisting her heart. Tears burned her eyes and left hot
tracks down her cheeks.

Carol raised the stake she held. Mercy demanded she put him out of the horrible

suffering. No one should have to bear pain like this.

She didn’t drive it into him.
He didn’t want that mercy. Her arm sank down to her side again, though she kept

the stake ready should he move to attack her. She had no right to put him out his
misery just because she couldn’t bear it. If he could stand it, so could she.

After ten long minutes, the screams and the writhing died down. He lay quietly on

his side, chest heaving.

The fire popped while she waited for him to move. The flames were dying down

too, so she went over to put another log on it, giving wide berth to the area where he
sprawled. She didn’t risk moving her gaze off him for more than a second or two as she
took pieces of wood from the bin and tossed them on the fire. A small bucket nearby
held pines cones. Carol threw in a couple of those and drew in the fresh, outdoorsy
scent they emitted as the flames swallowed them.

After a few more minutes, he rolled to his side and looked up at her. No red glow

filled his eyes, just sheer mute agony.

It hurt that she couldn’t do anything to ease him. Couldn’t even sit with him and

hold his hand. It hurt so badly that she felt it churning away in her stomach.

Then the blue depths were overshadowed as the red glow flickered to life again.

She forced herself to look away from his eyes, watching the side of his face. He lifted his
head to look at her and rolled over onto hands and knees. After trying and failing to
push himself to his feet, he began to crawl toward her on hands and knees, making a
weird, high, keening moan that finally resolved into words. “The blood. Fresh, hot
blood.”

He moved faster than he had last time, but fortunately still not with the uncanny

speed he’d shown earlier. She could still dodge him. It made for a bizarre and pathetic
situation, though, as he crawled around the floor, trying to get to her, and she ducked
one way and the other to avoid letting him get too close.

It felt like it took forever before the craving that held him in thrall began to recede

and he dropped back onto the floor beside the big desk, waiting to recover some
strength. When he rolled over, the red glow flickered fitfully in his eyes, but it was
fading.

After a minute or two of heavy breathing, he said, “Drop a cushion on the floor for

me?”

She got one from the loveseat and tossed it to him. He made no attempt to catch it.

When it hit the floor beside him, he grabbed it and set it against the side of the desk.
Pushing up with his right arm, he managed to wedge the cushion behind him so he
could rest his shoulders against it.

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“That was bad. Carol… I might not be able to restrain myself next time.”
“You’re so weak now, you can’t catch me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t depend on it. It would only take one good burst of

energy. I may still have that in me. Maybe more. Desperation could drive me to more
than you might expect.”

“All right. I hear you. I’m keeping my eyes open.”
“Good.” His head lolled back against the pillow as though it took too much energy

to keep it upright. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to six.”
“Not much longer. Fill the time for me. Tell me about the family you hope to have

some day when you finally meet your fantasy hero.” He barely had strength enough to
get the words out. She didn’t know how anyone could look worse and still be alive.
Little flesh covered his bones. Hollowed-out cheeks made his face look skeletal and his
lids drooped over his eyes as if holding them open took more energy than he had.

Carol shrugged. “I don’t know what there is to tell. I’d like to have a few kids,

maybe a couple of boys and a couple of girls. A nice house, a yard with a garden, you
know… the standard things. I’m not really very extraordinary, even if I do like science
fiction and fantasy stories.”

“I suspect you’re much more unusual than you think,” Michael responded. “Most

other women would have already locked themselves in that room upstairs and
barricaded the door. Or run back to the car to take their chances there. I think there’s a
lot more heroine in you than you realize.”

“I don’t think so. It seems to me adventures are generally more fun to read about

than to live. I wouldn’t choose it. But what about you? What did you want from life?”

He shrugged, barely and painfully. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Family. Friends.

Success in my job. Thought about maybe going into politics eventually, but I don’t
really know.”

“Why politics?”
“I saw so many things that were wrong with the government that I wanted to fix.

So many injustices. I thought I might be able to get elected and do something to right
them. You think some of the laws we have now are bad. You should have seen what it
was like in 1900.”

“And you wanted to— Oh, drat.” She spotted the mist first time this time because it

was just a couple of feet from her.

“This is just so sweet,” Antoine said as soon as he’d fully coalesced. “I’m almost in

tears.”

“Don’t waste the effort,” Michael told him.
Antoine shook his head. “You’re looking bad, Michael. Seriously bad. Hey, look at

me, guy. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

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Michael refused to look him in the eye, keeping his gaze focused on Antoine’s chest.

“Yes, it does. This is how I want it.”

“It’s almost six. Sunrise in an hour and a half. You really think you can hold on that

long? I don’t think so. You’re in bad shape now, mon galant.”

A strained smile crossed Michael’s face. “I’ve held out this long. I can manage

another hour and a half.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed and took on a brilliantly red glow. Carol backed away

from him and looked down as he turned toward her. “Even with this succulent
invitation standing here, waiting for you to take her, you stubbornly hold out.” He
drew a deep breath, let it out on a dramatic sigh and turned toward the other vampire
again. “Michael, I’ve underestimated you. It was a mistake. But there’s still time to right
it.”

He moved so fast Carol couldn’t follow. She had no time to react. Antoine was

beside her before she even realized he wasn’t where he’d been in the previous second.
She hadn’t seen him draw out the knife or pick it up, nor did she see what he did,
exactly. It happened so quickly, her eyes couldn’t track it.

She only knew he’d injured her when a violent, burning pain raced along her left

arm and she glanced down. A long slice began two inches below the elbow and ran
down to just above her wrist. He’d cut through her sweater and the skin below. Blood
already stained the edges of the blue knit fabric, and as she watched, a thin stream
emerged from under the edge of it at her wrist.

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Chapter Seven

“Shit! What did you do?” Carol screamed, jumping back away from him. “Crap.”

She tucked the arm against her body, squeezing hard, and brought the stake up.

Antoine glanced at the stake, an amused look spreading across his features. “Just

making it easier for our friend here.”

He glanced back at Michael. “He’s looking very pale and bloodless right now. Can

you smell it?” he asked. “Nice, fresh, warm blood.”

He turned back to her. “Don’t you feel sorry for him? You’ve seen him suffer. You

can help him get better. Just offer your arm. Give him the blood.”

“What did you do?” Michael surged to his feet, his words sharp and strong. He

stared at Carol, eyes widening at the sight of the blood.

“Just prepared a little snack for you,” Antoine said. “She’s not badly damaged. And

I left her pretty face alone.”

Quicker than she could blink, Antoine grabbed the hand on the injured arm and

pulled it forward, away from her chest. He extended it out toward Michael. “Just a
small snack. Enough to get you going again. Then you can go find someone else. Some
lowlife that doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Let go of her,” Michael said, the words hissing through clenched teeth.
Antoine dropped her arm. “Of course.” A few drops of her blood smeared the

vampire’s hand. He raised it to his face, sniffed and let a blissful smile curve his mouth.
“Prime vintage,” he said. “Young, healthy female.” His tongue flicked out and licked at
the blood. Eyes closed, he licked again, savoring. “Oh my, yes.”

He made another move, again too quick for her to follow, but Michael could and

did.

Faster than she could actually see, Michael was there, pulling Antoine away from

her. Michael latched on so hard that the two vampires overbalanced and pitched to the
floor together. Michael wrapped his hands around the wrist that held the knife and
banged it against the floor until the blade dropped free. Carol grabbed it before the
vampire could get hold of it again. She stepped back and dropped the knife into a side
drawer of the desk. Meanwhile, Antoine tried to push to his feet, but Michael used his
hold to drag him back down again. The two struggled, Michael trying to keep him
down, Antoine wriggling to break free.

She had no idea where Michael got the strength to do it and it couldn’t possibly last

long, but for the moment he kept control of Antoine. The two rolled around on floor,
first one, then the other on top. They smashed into the loveseat, pushing it back into the
wall, and an end table. Both it and the lamp on it crashed to the floor.

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Their struggle took them dangerously close to the fire, but then Antoine twisted,

nearly escaping from Michael’s hold, and they rolled away from it again. Antoine raised
a fist and brought it down toward Michael’s face.

Michael dodged the fist, but he looked weaker. One of his hands slid off Antoine’s

arm and the vampire pushed back against him. She had to do something. Michael
couldn’t last much longer.

The two moved and rolled until they stopped in a position where Michael could see

her, but Antoine faced the other way.

She raised the stake. Michael flicked his eyes in acknowledgement.
She’d only have one shot at this, so she’d better make it good. She had to trust

Michael could hold Antoine steady long enough.

Raising her arm to bring the stake up as high as she could, she rushed toward them.

At four feet away, she launched herself forward, bringing her arm down at the same
time, putting every ounce of her strength behind it as she jammed the stake into
Antoine’s back, right over where she hoped his heart was.

It was the most horrible thing she’d ever done. She felt the stake hit bone—a rib she

assumed. Ignoring the nasty, crunching feel of it, she jiggled the stake until it slid past
and punched deep into the vampire’s torso.

She waited for him to dissolve or go poof the way vampires did on television, but

Antoine just froze for several long moments, then gave a small grunt and collapsed onto
the floor. He lay still, chest no longer rising and falling with breath.

Carol backed away a step, staring at the still figure, struggling with her own breath.

“Is he…dead?”

Michael rolled over to look. “For the time being.”
“‘For the…time being’? What does that mean?”
“As long as the stake’s in him.” He let his head sink back down to the floor and his

breathing sounded harsh, too rapid and uneven.

She shivered. “Oh. How can we make him dead dead? I mean, like permanently

dead?” A small, remote part of her brain reacted with shock that she should even think
such a thing.

“Drain him and…let the sun finish him off,” Michael answered. He was careful not

to look at her injured arm.

“What does that mean?”
“It won’t be easy, and I don’t think— Hell…another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Your stake’s in Antoine and we don’t dare take it out.”
“I don’t— Oh. Ideas?”

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He shook his head. For a few minutes, while he’d defied Antoine, he’d looked more

normal, more like he had earlier when she’d arrived. He seemed even more wasted
now, his body and face fleshless, skeletal.

“Wait,” Carol went to the desk, opened the top middle drawer and found what she

sought. A pencil. A nice, sharp, wooden pencil. She held it up so Michael could see.
“Will this do?”

“Real wood?”
Carol smelled it. “Yup. Real wood.”
His lips barely pulled into a smile. “Then it will.”
The clock tolled the hour of six.
“Listen.” Michael’s voice was weaker now, sounding thready and strained. “Not

much time left. You’re going to have to help me with this.”

“What’s ‘this’?”
“Getting rid of him. And getting me ready for sunrise.”
She stared at him. Every now and then a flicker of red showed in his eyes, but he

seemed to be holding it back by sheer force of will.

“What do you need me to do? And what do we do about him?” She nodded toward

Antoine.

“Take him outside.”
“All right.”
Carol went around him to get her coat. By the time she put it on, Michael had

staggered to his feet again. He looked none too steady, but quite determined.

She grabbed Antoine’s legs and Michael took his arms. Though Antoine was more

than six feet tall and Michael had the body’s arms stretched out above the head, it still
put her closer to Michael than she felt safe with. Especially when that red glow still
sometimes winked in his eyes. She kept the pencil in her hand even though it made it
harder to carry the dead vampire.

After ten minutes of struggle, they’d dragged Antoine as far as the kitchen. Michael

had to stop twice along the way, conserving his energy to fight the hunger that doubled
him up in pain. Each time, she heard him swearing softly to himself and praying for
strength.

The back door was off a short hall beyond the kitchen. When they got there,

Michael dropped Antoine’s legs and reached for the deadbolt to unlock it. Before he
laid fingers on it, though, his hand froze in mid-motion.

Seconds later, he turned and the red glow shone steadily in his eyes. Intense

concentration made his face fierce when he glanced at her bleeding arm. Lips pulled
back to show his fangs gleaming.

“Shit.” Carol dropped the dead vampire and backed away. “Michael. Resist it.

Remember? You’re not giving in.”

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For the moment, he’d forgotten. The furious red color filled his eyes and his gaze

remained steady on her arm as he took a couple of steps toward her. An odd, keening
growl poured from him, interspersed with the word “blood”.

Carol kept her eyes on his chin, watching him advance. She groped for the cross at

her throat and held it out. “Michael, please. You don’t want to drink from me. You want
your soul back. Remember? Remember?”

Backing away, she stumbled and almost went to her knees, but stuck out a hand

and used the wall to steady herself.

He continued to stagger toward her. She raised the pencil in her right hand, holding

it point-out so that if he attempted to charge directly at her, he’d be impaled on it. Her
left hand lifted the cross up and out.

“Michael, don’t.” She put everything she had into the plea.
He ignored it and continued. At least he didn’t use that superhuman speed.

Probably couldn’t anymore, though she dared not depend on that. His breathing was
loud and heavy. Each harsh exhalation carried a groan with it.

When he was only a couple of steps away, she steeled herself and got the pencil

ready, praying it would work. Instead of moving forward any more, though, he
surprised her when he stopped, grabbed the wrist that held the pencil, and drew it
toward his face. The fangs showed stark white as his mouth opened wide. She tried to
shift the pencil in her grip to get it close to him, but almost lost her hold on it entirely.

“Michael, no!” She screamed as she struggled to yank her wrist loose from his hold.

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Chapter Eight

A hard tug pulled her arm out of his control. Carol brought up the pencil ready to

stab him, but changed her mind at almost the last second. Following an instinct she
couldn’t fathom, she lifted the cross in her left hand and held it out as far from her
throat as it would go. She leaned forward to put it inches from his face.

He drew a breath and began to reach for her arm again, then stopped. For several

long moments, he stayed in that position, breath heaving in and out harshly, arm
extended, reaching to grab hers. Very slowly, he lifted his head to look up from her arm
to her face, stopping to focus on the cross for several long moments.

“Carol?” The word was soft, almost hesitant.
He sounded rational, in control. She raked a quick glance across his eyes. Flashes of

red flickered off and on there, but it was no longer the steady fierce glow of a few
minutes ago. His gaze traveled upward from the cross to her face. The tension of the
attack drained from him. Shoulders slumped and arms relaxed down to his sides. “I’m
sorry.” He said it so softly she could barely hear.

Then he straightened again. “I can’t control it any longer.” He glanced around,

looking at the dead vampire on the floor and then the back door. “It’s time. I’ll be right
back.” He walked past her, heading toward the living room.

Carol didn’t follow. Instead she went to the back door and looked out through the

window. The snow had stopped. That might even be moonlight reflecting off the
pristine white fluff that blanketed the ground. Was there a hint of slightly less dark sky
near the horizon on the left? Yes, surely. Pretty soon Michael would find an end to his
suffering. An end to the horribly transfigured life he’d never wanted.

Why did a funny little internal pang stab into her gut at the thought? Where did

that twist in the region of her heart come from? All he wanted was to die human, to find
peace at last. He’d shown no bitterness about the years of normal human lifespan stolen
from him. He’d accepted he couldn’t have those back.

No sound alerted her to his return. He still moved with that eerie quietness that

must be a vampire thing. Instead a flash of movement in her peripheral vision made her
whirl in alarm.

He carried a canvas tote bag that bulged in odd ways and places. The way he held it

out from his body, as though he couldn’t bear to have it too near, made her wonder
about the contents.

Then he offered it to her. “Take this,” he asked.
She debated which hand to use. The pencil was in her right and she didn’t want to

risk moving it to the weaker hand, but the left arm also bore the bloody slice and she

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didn’t want that getting too close to him. In the end, she took that bag with her right
hand and kept the pencil there as well.

The bag weighed considerably more than she expected and clanked oddly. She

looked down into it. “Chains? For him?”

Michael shook his head. “For me. I’m at the end. Can’t trust myself anymore. That

was too close. I almost… I nearly…did it. Next time I may not stop. I can’t risk it again.”
He drew in a deep breath and looked at the sprawled figure on the floor. “I hate to ask,
but… I can’t do it myself.”

“Do what?”
“All of it. Won’t be pleasant, but…” He started to shake and the red flickered in his

eyes. “Outside. Please. Quickly.”

He sped past her and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit her, but there was no

breeze and the sky had cleared. A sliver of moon shone down. Reluctantly, Carol
followed him down three steps and out into the back yard. Her tennis shoes sank into
the four inches of snow and crunched on the layer of ice beneath it. He crossed a stretch
of pure white ground, stopping where four upright metal poles had been driven deep
to form an eight-foot by three-foot rectangle.

His breathing was quick and harsh again. “Quickly. The chains.” He lay down in

the snow in the midst of the poles.

Carol opened the tote. In pulling them out, she discovered that what she had

thought one long chain was actually four, all with clips on one end that slid open and
closed and a heavy leather cuff on the other. She held one up, staring at it, not sure she
really believed what she thought he wanted.

“Hurry,” he urged. “Can’t hold on much longer.” The red flickered in his eyes

faster. “On me.”

“You want me to chain you to those posts.”
He nodded, closing his eyes as though even the moonlight shining on the snow

hurt.

“I—”
He knew what he was doing.
She drew a deep breath and fastened the chain through an eyelet hole in the post

and then circled his wrist with the cuff, pulling it tight to ensure his hand wouldn’t
slide through, and buckled it closed. His wrists were almost pathetically thin, with only
the barest layer of flesh covering bone and whatever wasted muscle remained. It was
the first time she’d actually touched him, and it affected her oddly. Though his skin was
cool, almost cold, it sent a jolt of tingly heat up her arm.

No.
The man would be dead in less than an hour.
The realization sent tears coursing down her cheek as she fastened the second cuff

to his wrist.

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He opened his eyes. Red flashed intermittently as he watched her. “No tears. This is

what I want. Do my ankles too. I’m going to lose—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, he did in fact lose control. His mouth

opened wide and a ghastly, eerie howl emerged. The sound combined physical agony
and frustrated anger. The blood red in his eyes turned almost black in the dim light.

He began to thrash and writhe, trying to get loose and get to her. The chains rattled

and clanked as he strained against them, wrestling to get free with all his remaining
strength. When she grabbed his right ankle, he kicked out at her. It took several minutes
of struggle to get his ankles fastened to the poles as well, leaving him spread-eagled in
the snow.

It hurt watching him thrash helplessly, madly in the chains. He didn’t deserve this.

The man had fought so heroically, resisting the urge to drink from her, and his reward
was a miserable, painful death. Once she had him secure, she stood for a few minutes,
praying for him as he continued to writhe and roar and raise his head, trying futilely to
get close enough to bite.

The thought of biting reminded her that Antoine still lay on the kitchen floor with a

stake in him. They’d been in the processing of dragging him outside when Michael lost
control. Best she finish that business now.

It wasn’t easy dragging a dead vampire out the door, down the steps and into the

yard. Antoine was lean, but tall, with more bulk than you’d guess by looking at him.
She took care he remained facedown to avoid accidentally dislodging the stake. By the
time she got him ten feet away from the house, she was sweating, despite the cold.

She stood over the vampire, struggling to catch her breath and wondering what to

do next. “Drain him” Michael had said. What the heck did that mean? Unfortunately,
Michael was in no condition to ask about it.

He didn’t have the strength to keep up the struggle long, though, so she sat on the

bottom step, waiting, hoping he had one more period of lucidity left in him. Ten
minutes later, her patience was rewarded. Michael stopped straining against the bonds
and quieted.

She walked over to him. “What do I have to do to Antoine? You said something

about ‘draining him’?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. Have to ask you…to do this. Get a knife and open a vein.

Also, chip through the ice so the blood can hit the ground. Then leave him out here and
the sun will finish him. Not an easy thing for you. Sorry.”

“I’ll handle it.”
She said it to make him feel better. In fact, she felt anything but confident or eager

for the task he outlined. She had no desire even to touch the vampire’s body now that
she’d dragged it outside. But she wouldn’t tolerate any remote possibility Antoine
could revive as long as she could do something to prevent it.

Carol went back inside and found the knife Antoine had dropped earlier, handling

it with care, carrying it so the blade pointed down at the ground. In the mudroom off

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the hall by the back door, she found a pair of rubber boots. They were several sizes too
big, but still better than wading around out there in her soaked tennis shoes. She also
found a bin full of garden equipment. Rooting around in it produced a trowel with a
pointed end. She took that out back along with the knife.

Michael was thrashing around and howling in anguish again. Doing her best to

ignore him, she chose a spot near Antoine’s neck and began to brush away snow, then
she chipped through the ice until the trowel poked into actual dirt. Until yesterday, the
weather hadn’t been all that cold, so the ground wasn’t frozen. After scraping away a
bit more snow, ice and some old dead grass, she had a cleared patch a few inches in
diameter. Despite the cold temperature, she had sweat running down the side of her
face by the time she finished.

That was the easy part, though.
She really didn’t look forward to the next bit. But dawn was approaching and she

dared not delay long. She shifted Antoine’s body a few inches so that his neck was right
over the hole she’d dug.

She dreaded the next move. Never in her life had she done anything remotely like

this. Lifting the knife, she marked her target, but paused for a moment, confounded by
squeamishness over what she was about to do. She reminded herself of how Antoine
had destroyed Michael’s life and what he’d tried to do to her. It strengthened her to
plunge the knife down into his neck.

Unfortunately it apparently missed the major blood vessels. Her stab produced

only a small trickle of blood that took several minutes even to drip down off his skin
and onto the ground. He was dead. His heart wasn’t pumping, so there wouldn’t be
much blood flowing, but still, if she hit a major vein or artery, there should be more
than that. Especially since, by a stroke of unconsidered luck, she managed to leave him
lying on a slight downslope so that his head was lower than his feet.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, she pulled the knife out and brought it down again.

This time she slashed laterally into his neck rather than stabbing, getting the knife as far
under him as she could manage, given that he lay facedown.

A quick gush of blood poured out, running fast down his neck to drip into the hole.

Fighting nausea, anger and depression, she watched it for a moment, then stood and
turned her back on the body.

She went over to Michael, who’d stopped howling and thrashing and lay quietly

now. “It’s done,” she told him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. A small, weak smile curved his lips. “Thank

God.” He took several pain-racked breaths before he said, “You should go now. Done
all you can. It’s starting to…light. Traffic on the road soon. Someone will see you and
help.”

She just stared at him, unable to say anything. “Goodbye” seemed so ridiculously

weak and inadequate for the situation. What could she say? Tears mingled with the
sweat pouring down her face. She shook her head and a few drops sprayed on him.

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“It’s all right,” he said, seeing her distress. “At last I’ll have…peace.” He shut his

eyes for a moment, conserving his strength.

“It’s not fair. It just totally sucks! You don’t deserve this.”
He sighed and looked up at her. “Can’t…disagree. But this is better than…the

other. Better than being a monster.” Melted snow soaked his hair and clothes, but he
didn’t appear to feel the chill.

“I wish… You did say there might be a way—”
He shook his head. “No. Too dangerous. You’ve already risked…too much just

staying here. Wouldn’t want that on my…conscience.”

“Michael, I—”
“No. Make me happy, if you go. Have a good life. Find that hero. He’s out there

somewhere for you.”

“I don’t… I can’t…”
“You can. Don’t want you to stay and watch. Please. Can’t bear that.”
She drew a hard breath and tears rushed down her face even faster. “All right. God

rest your soul and give you peace.” She knelt down beside one of the corner posts,
where he couldn’t reach her, but she could take his hand. Measuring the distance to be
sure he couldn’t touch her with his mouth, she raised his hand as far as the chain would
allow, then she lowered her face and kissed his fingers. Tears ran onto them.

After a moment, she backed away. She’d feared the touch would spark another

round of frenzied struggle, but it didn’t. Possibly he was now too exhausted and
drained to be capable of it.

He watched her with that small, sad smile. “In another life…” He stopped and

shook his head. “Go.”

She rose and stepped back, preparing to go, but stopped when he called her name.
“Carol?” His lips pressed together and his face screwed up in pain. He spent a few

minutes fighting it before he could speak again. Then he said, “One…more favor?”

“What?”
“Can I have…your cross?”
“My cross? Won’t it hurt you?”
“Don’t think so. Not anymore.”
She stared at him for a moment, wondering if this was some devious sort of trap. It

wasn’t obvious how it could be. She reached up and unclasped the chain. Re-hooking it
after she’d taken it off, she bent down again and slipped it into his hand, winding the
chain around his fingers. She was ready to pull it back if it caused him pain, but instead
he closed his hand around it.

He gave a small sigh and some of the tense lines in his face relaxed. “No pain.

Comfort.” He looked at the sky for a second. She followed his gaze to where a soft pink
glow lit the horizon.

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“Dawn,” he said. “Go now.” A spasm twisted his body, jerking his arms and legs

against the chains. It didn’t appear to be bloodlust this time, but pure, uncrazed agony.
“Please,” he begged, the word a thin, stretched wire of sound.

“God bless you.” She whirled, hurried to the steps and rushed up them. Tears all

but blinded her and caused her to stumble on the second step. Steadying herself on the
rail, she made it up and into the kitchen. She shut the door and didn’t look back. His
death wasn’t going to be easy or pretty. She could at least grant him the dignity of
privacy.

As long as she lived, she’d never forget Michael Carpenter.
She walked back through the house, feeling a bit lost, uncertain what to do next. On

impulse she lifted the telephone handset. She almost dropped it again when the dial
tone buzzed. She began dialing, but stopped after nine and one.

“Find your hero,” he’d said. “He’s out there.”
But he wasn’t. He was right behind her. In the backyard. She’d never met anyone

more courageous and heroic than Michael Carpenter. She doubted she ever would.

She set the phone back on the hook.
It was dangerous. It was probably stupid. It might be futile and useless and that

would break her heart.

He’d asked her not to try to save him because he didn’t want her risking her life.

She had to respect that to the point of asking seriously whether she should try it. At
best, she might save his life, give him back the years of real human life he’d lost. She
couldn’t give him back his family or his fiancée. Maybe he could find new versions,
though.

At worst, she’d fail, he’d make her a vampire and they’d both die in the sunlight.

Not a happy prospect, that. Because that was the one outcome he couldn’t stand, she’d
have to be sure she erred on the side of caution if she did this.

The most likely outcome, though, was that it wouldn’t work and he’d just die. As

he planned to anyway.

A glance at the window showed the sky definitely growing lighter. If she was going

to do this, she needed to get started. She hurried into the living room and thumbed
through the several pages of notes she’d made earlier while Michael told his story.
Finally she found it and reread the instructions he’d given.

It wasn’t as specific as she would have liked, and he’d taken pains to say no one

was sure it would work. It was just something he’d heard about.

The risk… She hesitated, considering the dangers and how tricky the timing would

be. Why should she even try it? She owed him nothing. Yesterday this time, she hadn’t
known he existed. He’d done nothing for her… Okay, not quite true. He’d given her
shelter even though he expected it to make his fight to stay human harder. He’d
refrained from drinking her blood, at considerable cost to himself. He’d saved her from
Antoine’s machinations.

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Still, he’d told her not to try it.
But only because he didn’t want to endanger her. He admitted he would have liked

to have a normal life back, that dying was his best option only because he didn’t believe
the other was possible.

“Go find your hero.”
She closed her eyes against the sting of tears starting to flow again. Dammit. He did

deserve better.

Drawing a deep breath, she calmed herself. She’d need a knife. Not the one she’d

used on Antoine. This one couldn’t be tainted with vampire blood. Another trowel or
shovel too. God help her, this was going to be hard.

It hadn’t been easy to take care of Antoine and this would be ten times worse.
Get going. Every second of delay diminished the chances of success.
Carol went back to the kitchen and riffled through several drawers before she

found the knives. They all looked sharp, but she selected two that had serrated edges as
well as wicked points. She got another shovel from the mud room.

Before she went back out, she shed the coat. She’d be working hard enough to keep

her warm.

As she descended the steps to the yard, she scanned the horizon. The sun hadn’t

risen past it yet, but it wouldn’t be long. It was light enough that she could see easily.
Antoine lay where she left him. She made a wide berth around the body to get to
Michael.

He was still also, eyes closed. If he still breathed, she couldn’t see it. His features

looked set, fixed, lifeless. Too late. She’d debated too long. Her eyes burned and tears
ran down her face again. Damn. She hadn’t cried this much in years.

Then she noticed that he still clutched the cross in his left hand, the fingers closed

around it. A few moments later, his eyes opened. A startled expression crossed his face,
followed rapidly by joy, alarm, anger and despair. He made no move, however. He
might be too weak by now.

He barely mouthed the word, “Go.”
“No. I want to try to save you. But I need you to help me. I need you to tell me

when the time is right.”

“Can’t…trust me.” The words came out slowly, taking an effort to shape each one.
“Yes, I can. You’ve fought it off this long. You’ll do it for the last few minutes to

give us both a chance. You have to. I won’t go away. I’m going to try.”

He licked his lips with a dry tongue. It took him a while to form the next words.

“Carol. No.”

“Yes.” The more he protested, the more convinced she became it was the right thing

to do. “I trust you to give us both a chance. Tell me when the time is right. I’m going to
do it, so if you care at all, you’ll make sure I do it at the right time. Meanwhile, I have to
dig a hole.”

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His nod was the barest motion of his head. The words “not yet” weren’t even quite

a whisper. She could see he didn’t want to hope. He couldn’t afford it. She didn’t blame
him.

He appeared to be aging right in front of her eyes. His hair had gone thin, his face

even thinner. The little bit of flesh he had left seemed to evaporate.

But he still had another raging frenzy left in him. The red glow flared in his eyes

just as she turned away to pick up the shovel and begin digging. He started to writhe,
twist and yank at his bonds. After a few short, sharp yells, his vocalizations settled
down into more of a long groan.

Carol stayed out of his reach as she used the shovel to brush away snow from a

patch of ground near him. It took some hard work to crack through the ice and get
enough of it cleared away.

Michael’s raging didn’t last long. He didn’t have the strength to support it for more

than a minute or so. The last spasm faded away well before she’d finished breaking
through to the dirt.

Carol was sweating by then, desperate to get it ready in time, and praying for the

strength to do this properly.

She was still clearing off ice when the first rays of the sun peeked above the

horizon.

Because of where he lay, the sunlight reached Antoine first. There was no big

“poof” this time either. Instead he began to dissolve into a cloud of mist, just as he had
when he left earlier, only the process was slower. And the mist began to settle onto the
ground as particles of what looked like dust, rather than disappearing.

Carol stopped to watch. Over the space of a few minutes, the body sort of came

apart, dissolving and falling to pieces at the same time. When the process finished, it left
only a man-shaped patch of dusty residue with a pair of shoes and a sprawl of clothes
mixed in. The wooden stake lay on top.

Michael groaned and it drew her attention back to him. His eyes were closed and

his face screwed up in agony. The sunlight had touched his feet.

He fought back the pain long enough to open his eyes and look at her. He just

barely breathed the word, “Now.”

She couldn’t remember when she’d last prayed so much or with such ragged,

painful desperation. One last heave with the shovel loosed a big chunk of ice and
revealed a circle of ground about six inches in diameter. It better be enough.

She tossed the tool aside and picked up the knife.
Michael moaned steadily, unable to bear quietly the pain that drew all his muscles

tight. It rose steadily to be near a scream.

“God help me, please,” she muttered over and over again as she picked up the

knife. She had a moment’s hesitation, a bare second of doubt, before she knelt close to

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Michael and grabbed his hair, lifting his head to position his neck over the space she’d
cleared.

She held the knife near his throat. Nausea roiled her stomach so badly she had to

swallow back against it to keep from throwing up.

Still groaning, Michael opened his eyes and looked at her. The expression of

concern and gratitude mingling with the agony in the sunken, shadowed blue depths
shattered her heart.

Refusing to think about it, she reached down and jerked the knife across his throat,

pressing hard to slice deeply through the skin, into the muscle and blood vessels below.

His body shot up, back arching off the ground into a taut arc of sheerest agony,

stretching as far as his chained hands and ankles would permit. He couldn’t scream
anymore. With his throat cut, the only sound he could make was a choked gurgle.

It was by far the most horrible thing she’d ever heard.
A few seconds later, his muscles all went slack and he collapsed back to the ground.

His body lay limp and sprawled as it fell. His eyes slid closed and his face emptied, all
expression draining from it.

Blood poured out of the wound and ran down onto the earth. She leaned back to

avoid getting spattered with it.

How long to wait? Nothing he’d said helped her judge that. Not long, though. If he

wasn’t already truly dead, he would be within minutes. She dropped the knife she’d
used on him and picked up the second one for herself. She positioned her arm to cut
across her left wrist and realized she didn’t need to. In wrestling the shovel through the
ice, she’d reopened the cut Antoine had made. She’d been so focused on Michael and
what she had to do to him, she hadn’t even noticed her arm stinging or the warmth of
blood running down her arm beneath the sweater.

She moved around to the other side of Michael’s body, rolled up the sleeve and

held her arm out over his mouth. He didn’t react. A drop of blood fell on his face, but
missed his mouth and landed on his chin. She shifted her arm and the next drop hit his
lips.

They didn’t move. He made no effort to part his lips to take her offering.
Beads of sweat rolled off her temples and landed on his cheeks.
She tried again, this time using her fingers to open his mouth and then close it again

over the drops of her blood. She waited, but still nothing happened.

Despair warred with disbelief. She’d waited too long, dithered too much and it had

robbed him of his chance. But how could she have failed, when she’d tried so hard and
prayed so fervently over it?

She let a few more drops fall onto his face, but again they produced no movement,

no reaction at all.

“No,” she muttered to herself. “It can’t be. He deserves better. It’s not fair!”

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With her right hand, she moved his lips, forcing them apart again. This time she

forced a trickle of her blood right into his mouth. Still no result.

Maybe he needed more than just a few drops? Bracing herself against the pain, she

pulled apart the lips of the wound and pressed. A stream of blood rushed out and she
held his mouth open to receive it as she let it flow from her. But it produced no
movement, no breath, no change in him.

She squeezed her arm to force out as much as possible, letting it drip into his

mouth. He didn’t appear to swallow.

Tears made her eyes sting again and began to carve hot trails down her cheeks.

They dripped on his face as well, landing on his cheek, where they mingled with the
sweat of earlier.

A wave of dizziness assaulted her. She hadn’t lost that much blood, so it had to be a

combination of emotional stress and exhaustion. Other than the coffee and sandwiches,
she hadn’t eaten since early yesterday evening, either. All of it together made her feel
faint and nauseated.

Tears poured down her face even faster as she tried to squeeze more of her blood

into him, refusing to acknowledge failure. But he didn’t respond. Her tears fell on his
cheeks until enough collected to run down his face and into his mouth as well.

She couldn’t stand it.
Carol put her head down on his chest and rested her bleeding arm over his face. He

obviously wouldn’t be reaching down to tear her wrist or throat open and drain her.

She cried for the waste of a man who’d been extraordinary in his courage and

honor. She wept for all the things he’d been denied, the opportunities he’d never have.
She even, selfishly, cried for herself and the possibilities she’d lost.

Finally she either fell asleep or passed out from exhaustion.

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Chapter Nine

At first she thought the cold woke her. She was beginning to shiver as the chill

temperatures penetrated and seeped down into her core.

Then a voice called her name, softly so as not to startle her, but demanding her

attention. It sounded like…

“Michael?”
She lifted her head and raised her arm off his face. His eyes were open, watching

her with a bemused expression.

“I thought… I thought you were dead.”
“I was. But a very persistent young lady refused to take death for an answer.”
She stared at him. He looked…different. The features were recognizably the same,

though they seemed a bit rougher, less beautiful and more human. Still, no one would
describe him as homely. The black hair remained and his eyes were a deep, rich blue,
the features regular and well shaped, jaw firm and cheekbones graceful. But his skin
tone had changed dramatically from the near-dead white to a more normal pinkish with
olive undertones. He still looked dramatically thin, however, like a victim of starvation.
A white scar marked where she’d cut across his throat, but it looked old, as if it had
been there for years.

“Oh, my God. Michael! You’re alive? I mean, really alive?”
“So it would appear. I’m lying here with the sun shining on me and not burning up.

In fact, it feels remarkably wonderful, even though I’m wet and freezing. I haven’t seen
or felt the sun for a hundred years.”

“It worked. I can’t believe it worked.”
“I admit I’m a bit stunned too. I expected to be dead now. I was, I think. Then I

woke up again, with you on top of me.” He looked around, tried to move, and the chain
clanked as it resisted his effort. “I think it’s safe to unhook these.”

Carol sniffed, wiped her eyes and stood up. She fumbled with the clamps and

buckles for a few minutes before getting them all released and off him. She gave him a
hand to help him to his feet. He needed it.

“Drat, I’m weak. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.” He stopped and grinned. “I

haven’t, exactly, have I?”

“Depends on how you define ‘eating’ I suppose.”
The grin went to a full-out smile. No fangs. And the glow in his eyes was a pure

blue shine of joy. “A liquid diet isn’t what I call eating,” he agreed, shivering. “I need to
get warmed up or I’ll catch pneumonia and undo all your good work.” He swayed as

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he tried to walk toward the house. Carol put an arm around his waist to help support
him and they leaned on each other as they crossed the yard.

They stopped when they reached the abandoned clothes and pile of dust.
“This was Antoine?” he asked.
Carol nodded.
His smile faded as he stared at the remains. “He was a human victim once too, I

suppose. I never heard how he came to be a vampire. But he chose to be a monster
when he drank another man’s blood. And he did everything but force you on me. He
probably would have done that too, before it was over, if—”

“If I hadn’t staked him first.”
Michael nodded. “I can’t mourn him. If he ever—” He stopped and lifted his head.
Carol heard it then. The crunch of tires on the drive up to the house.
“We’re about to have company,” he said. “And since no one ever comes to visit me,

I suspect it’s someone out looking for you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose my family probably would be in a panic by now. I’d better

call them.”

“Let’s see what our visitors want first.”
He really was weak. She had to support him all the way into the house and finally

dropped him into a chair in the living room just as the front doorbell rang.

She answered it to find two men in uniform standing there. She smiled at them.
“Ma’am, we’re from the county sheriff’s department,” one of the two said. “Do you

know anything about the car that’s partway in the ditch up at the crossroads?”

“Unfortunately, I do. That’s my car. I’m sorry I just left it there, but it was stuck and

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call for help, but my cell phone isn’t getting a
signal and the phone lines here are down. I was incredibly lucky to find this place. I
probably would have frozen to death out there last night if I hadn’t. Mr. Carpenter was
generous enough to let me stay the night.”

“You are Miss Prescott, then?”
“Carol Prescott.”
The deputy looked at her arm. “Looks like you’re hurt.”
“Oh. Just a scratch. Klutz that I am, I knocked over a lamp and cut myself on one of

the shards. But I don’t think it’s serious.”

“Still, it might be a good idea to get it looked at. Might need a couple of stitches.

Should be cleaned up at least. We could take you to the emergency room while we get
your car towed.”

“All right. But I think Michael needs to go as well. When I got here, he was pretty

sick. He seems better now, but I get the feeling it’s been ages since he ate anything and
he’s still very weak.”

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“I’ll be all right.” Michael had gotten up and come to stand nearby. “Deputies,” he

said. “I’m Michael Carpenter.” He shook hands with each of them.

The two men studied her host and one said, “You do look a bit…thin. Might not be

a bad idea to come and get checked out too.” He turned back to Carol. “First, though,
your family is pretty frantic. I’m going to radio back that we’ve found you and you’re
okay. Might want to give them a call yourself.”

“I should be able to call from the hospital,” she said.
“I think service has been restored here, Ma’am,” the deputy answered.
“Oh. I haven’t tried in a bit.” She went and picked up the handset. “Yes! Give me a

minute to call my family and I’ll go with you. Michael, I really think you should too.”

He sighed and nodded.
Carol dialed her parents’ number. Her mother answered on the second ring,

sounding frantic. “Hi, Mom,” she said.

“Carol! Where are you? Are you all right? We’ve been so worried. What happened

to you?”

She told her mom about the wreck closing the highway, having to exit, getting lost

on the back roads, skidding and ending up in the ditch, and how she sought refuge in a
house near where her car was stuck. The deputies were standing right there where they
could hear too. “I was very lucky,” she finished. “When I knocked on the door of this
house, the owner was home and he let me spend the night. He had a fire in the fireplace
and it felt soooo good after I had to get out and walk in the sleet and snow. Even
though he was sick himself, he was really nice to me.”

She saw the others watching her, waiting for her to finish and shrugged. “Yes, I

hope you’ll meet him too,” she told her mother. “He’s really nice. No, I’m not sure
when I’ll get there. My car’s kind of messed up and I don’t know how long it will
take… Well, sure, if she wants to drive up here, that would be fine. She probably should
come right to the hospital. No, nothing serious. I just scratched up my arm and it might
need a stitch or two. A stupid accident. You know how clumsy I am. It’s already
stopped bleeding, though, so I don’t think it’s anything more than a scratch.”

Carol sighed and tried to finish the call. “I’ll see you soon, Mom. More then.” She

hung up the phone. “My sister and her husband are coming to get me, but it will
probably take them a couple of hours to get here.”

She collected her purse and coat, then she and Michael rode in the back of the

sheriff’s deputy’s car to the small regional medical center, stopping briefly at her car so
they could transfer her suitcase and the box of gifts to the deputy’s cruiser.

The hospital was empty except for a group of bored employees on Christmas

morning, so they got very fast attention from the staff.

A nurse cleaned and disinfected her arm, put a few butterfly bandages on most of it

and then the doctor put a few stitches in the lower part where the cut was deeper. Carol
got some instructions on taking care of it and complications to watch for, but she was

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still finished before her sister arrived. A sheriff’s deputy came back to give her a card
for the service station where they’d left her car and warned her that, given the holiday,
it would probably be a few days before it could be repaired.

She asked the receptionist about Michael and the woman went to check. She

returned a few minutes later, saying he was fine, just a bit dehydrated. They were
giving him intravenous fluids and then they’d let him go. Did she want to go back and
sit with him?

Definitely, she did.
She found him lying on a gurney in a cubicle similar to the one where they’d

cleaned up her arm. He had an IV line running into his arm, but he didn’t look
uncomfortable with it. In fact, he looked peaceful and content.

He glanced up as she entered. The smile that spread across his face when he saw

her made her heart lurch and its beat speed up. It thrilled her to see him look like that
after watching him suffer so horribly through the night. A wave of shyness stilled her
brain and tongue. All she could think of to say was, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he answered. “Come over and have a seat.”
She perched on the single, hard chair beside the bed.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
“It’s fine. They put in four stitches where the cut went a little deeper at one end, but

it’s nothing major. You?”

“I’m fine too. Dehydrated, which is why they’re giving me fluids, but other than

that the doctor said I’m in excellent health. There’s got to be some kind of weird irony
there, but I haven’t figured out what it is yet.” His expression turned abruptly serious.
“Carol—why? Why did you do it?”

“Would you have preferred I didn’t?”
“No. Definitely no. But I told you not to try it. It was too dangerous. And I’m a

complete stranger to you. Why should you take such a risk for me?” He reached out
with the arm that didn’t have the intravenous line in it and took her hand. His fingers
were warm and strong and comforting as they lightly squeezed hers.

She looked down at their joined hands. “Because… Remember when you told me to

go and find my hero? As you were dying? I got inside the house and started to go, and I
realized that I’d already found a hero. I didn’t know if you were my hero or not, but you
were by far the most heroic man I’d ever met. And mine or not, there are too few heroes
in the world. We can’t afford to waste any of the ones we’ve got.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, but his fingers tightened around hers until she

looked up at him again. A deep, steady light shone in his eyes.

“I don’t feel like any kind of hero, but if you say so, I’ll take it for now. If I’m a hero,

you’re every bit as much a heroine. But I don’t know—” He shrugged. “By the way,
how did you do it? Kurt was only guessing at the way. Was it the blood? I wonder if we
can find a way to share that information. It might be useful to some others.”

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“I think… I think it wasn’t just the blood and the fact that it was freely given. It

took—”

A tide of noise swept down the corridor, coming toward them. Seconds later, the

first head poked into the cubicle. Bodies followed it. A minute or two later, a crowd of
seven people—her parents, her brother, her sister and brother-in-law and their two
children had all managed to squeeze into the tiny space and wrapped her in their hugs
and relieved laughter.

She introduced them to Michael and explained that he’d been her host for the night,

but he’d been ill and was still recovering.

Her mother looked from Michael to her and back again, but kept her thoughts to

herself. Instead she said to Michael, “You’re all by yourself on Christmas Day? Where’s
your family?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much left, ma’am,” he answered.
“Well, then, we’d be honored if you’d join us for dinner, and maybe stay a day or

two? You need some feeding up.”

Considering what she’d told him of her mother’s cooking, that might not be much

of an inducement. But he accepted the offer anyway.

Later, when they were alone together for a moment, he asked her, “Earlier you said

you thought it took more than just the blood to revive me.”

Carol nodded. “I think it was the mix—blood, sweat and tears. I managed to drip

all three on you. I think it took all three.”

“Could be,” he admitted. “I’m grateful for all three. Carol, can I…? I’ve wanted to

do this since the moment I saw you at the door, but I didn’t dare.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. Carol had no objection to it. None at all.

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About the Author

Karen McCullough was born in New York and lived there until her family moved

to the Boston area when she was a teenager. She grew up in a household filled with
books. By her sixteenth birthday, she’d devoured all the mysteries she could find in her
father’s extensive library, especially enjoying Agatha Christie’s and Rex Stout’s works.
Reading became an addiction from which she’s never recovered. When a friend lent her
a stack of science fiction novels in her teens, she found more imaginative doors opening.

In the course of a varied career, she’s been a social worker, retail clerk, apartment

complex manager, computer programmer, associate and managing editor of a group of
trade publications, director of electronic media, and senior web editor. She retired to
start her own business as a web designer/developer and to devote more time to her
writing. She continues to fill the little spare time she has with dips into the mystery,
fantasy, science fiction and romance genres.

Karen has sold a number of short stories to romance and science fiction magazines.

She’s also published six romantic mystery/suspense novels, two romantic fantasy
novels, and a fantasy role-playing game tie-in book. She collects dragon figurines and
images.

Karen welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at

[e-mail].

Karen McCullough

Cerridwen, the Celtic goddess of wisdom, was the muse who brought inspiration to

storytellers and those in the creative arts. Cerridwen Press encompasses the best and
most innovative stories in all genres of today’s fiction. Visit our site and discover the
newest titles by talented authors who still get inspired—much like the ancient
storytellers did, once upon a time.

www.cerridwenpress.com

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