Authors: Jean Lorrah
After a time, Dan asked, “Is this why you've refused to set a wedding date? You think I don't really know what I'm facing?"
“Perhaps you know better than I do. But you've bee—too accommodating. We never fight, because you always back down. Maybe after she died you regretted every fight you had with Megan. Maybe you feel dependent on me for your life. Maybe it's something I don't even know about. Whatever it is, it needs to be worked through before we get into a marriage with only a 25% chance of survival."
He didn't question the statistic; everyone knew law enforcement officers had terrible divorce rates. “What about you?” he asked. “Why are you willing to live together but not to commit to marriage? Is it your perfect record, top cop, Olympic gold medalist? Is it the same reason you won't apply for the sergeant's exam? Are you afraid to fail, Brandy?"
She loosened her grip on the steering wheel before she replied. “I don't have a perfect record, Dan. My little brother died under my care. Nothing will ever change that."
“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I thought you had accepted that a ten-year-old girl should never have had that responsibility."
“I accept it. And when I'm ready, I'll accept the responsibility of marriage—but first I'll make damn sure I'm properly prepared for it!"
Chapter Thirteen—Christmas
That Christmas Brandy's mother was happier than Brandy remembered since her father died, and Harry was obviously in love with her. Feminism be damned, nothing made a woman feel better than knowing that she was loved.
It was just strange to share such a feeling with one's mother! Away from the stress of her job, Brandy relaxed, watching Dan, thinking how attractive he was, how courteous, how intelligent—and how good with children.
Harry's son, his wife, and their children were also visiting. While Brandy never knew what to say to small children, Dan had a parade of tricks with coins and napkins and paper clips. Brandy was slightly less frightened of motherhood knowing Dan would make such a good father.
Dan and Brandy left after Christmas to see some of Florida, Disney World and Epcot, then over to the east coast to visit the Space Center. Despite sunscreen, Dan burned that day. “I'm always most sensitive just before the full moon,” he explained. “I should have covered up more."
But even in late December it was too warm and humid in Florida for anything but shorts and tee-shirts. Dan wore a wide-brimmed hat and his ubiquitous sunglasses, so his arms and legs bore the brunt of his reaction. Brandy hurried them back to their motel room, where they stayed until the sun hung low on the horizon.
“Let's go down to the beach to watch the moon rise,” Dan suggested.
Brandy smiled. “You are such a romantic. Most men would rather watch a football game."
They had to drive a few blocks, for as last-minute tourists they could not get a beachfront motel. There were other people watching the sky glow orange and red, go mauve, then turn gold as the moon rose out of the ocean.
As they stood atop the dunes, looking out over the sea, Brandy felt like the heroine of a romance novel. When Dan gave her a gentle squeeze, Brandy turned in his arms and kissed him. He responded avidly, not resisting when she searched out the ridges in his palate. The bond between them grew so strong that Brandy felt Dan's Craving—a bone-deep hunger, a yearning in every cell of his body. “Let's get you home,” she said in concern.
“I'm all right,” he insisted. “You're here, Brandy. I feel no need to hunt. And I'm used to controlling it."
Brandy looked around. “Do you want to do it here?"
“Yes, when you offer that way. Turn it off, Sweetheart—I want it to be special tonight."
Brandy didn't know what she had turned on, but when she concentrated on the beauty of the night instead of Dan's need, she felt him relax. Nevertheless, she steered them in an unhurried walk toward where they had parked the car.
Theirs had made four cars in the small pull-off when they arrived. Now two were gone, and as they strolled across the sand a family packed kids, coolers, beach chairs, and an umbrella into a station wagon and backed out.
If Brandy's attention hadn't been on Dan, she might have been more alert. As it was, she pulled the car keys from her belt pack as she reluctantly let go of Dan's hand.
Brandy started around to the driver's side while Dan moved toward the passenger door. She heard him draw a sharp breath, and turned in time to see his head come up sharply.
“Dan, what's—"
His eyes were focused over the roof of the car on something behind her. Before she could turn, she felt the jab of a gun muzzle against her back.
Brandy couldn't tell if it were she or her assailant trembling, but she heard the nervous tension in his voice.
“Gimme the car keys an’ yer money, Lady. You, too, Mister—yer money an’ no tricks, or she gets it!"
Don't try to be a hero, Dan!
Brandy willed as she pulled bills from her belt pack, praying that on this of all nights her influence would hold him.
Dan remained where he was, his eyes fixed on Brandy's assailant. “Son, you don't want to do this,” he said in the most reasonable tones. “Just put your gun up on top of the car, and you won't get into trouble."
Dan was trying to use his influence on the young carjacker. He didn't answer—maybe it was working!
But the gun continued to vibrate against Brandy's back.
“Come on, Son,” said Dan. “You're tired of this. You're so very tired—you want to rest. Sleep now—"
“Shut up, you fuckin’ asshole, ‘fore I blow the bitch away!” The gun jabbed Brandy's ribs. “Gimme them keys!"
Brandy surrendered them, feeling Dan's astonishment and fear. “Let it go, Dan,” she said as the thief pushed her aside and opened the door. He couldn't figure out how to hold the gun and find the ignition key at the same time.
It was the moment of greatest danger: was the boy terrified enough to turn car theft into murder?
Brandy tried to back off, willing Dan not to startle the thief. At her movement the gun came up, aimed at her.
“No!” Dan yelled—and plunged through the car window to grab the boy's gun arm.
The startled thief pulled the trigger by reflex. The shot went through the windshield.
Dan's torso was in the car, his legs partly out the window as he wrestled for the gun. A second shot went through the roof before the boy screamed and slumped, the gun falling from his limp hand.
Brandy scrambled for the weapon. Only once it was safely in her possession did she look at Dan.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. His fangs were extended, his eyes red.
And he was bleeding.
The shots would surely bring someone.
“I'm all right,” Dan tried to reassure her, untangling himself. “I think I broke his arm.” But his own legs, bare from the cuffs of his shorts to the tops of his sneakers, were a mass of cuts.
Red and blue lights flashed. “Dan! Get control of yourself,” Brandy said urgently.
For a moment he stared, uncomprehending—but then with obvious effort he retracted his fangs. A police car pulled up and two officers approached. Brandy turned her mind to police business. Showing her I.D., she explained what had happened—the truth, but not the whole truth.
Dan held himself under silent control. Brandy could feel not only his Craving, but also the stinging pain of the cuts on his legs. It was after sunset. Why didn't they heal?
The officers examined the car, the woman asking, “Did the carjacker break this window?” while her partner examined the unconscious thief.
When the man touched his shoulder, the boy woke with a start. He lifted both hands to fend the policeman off; Brandy was happy to see that his arm wasn't broken. “Lemme ‘lone, Man! I dint do nothin'!"
“These people say you pulled a gun on them and tried to steal their car,” the officer said mildly.
The boy started to sneer at Brandy, but when his eyes moved to Dan he suddenly panicked. “Keep him ‘way from me, Man! He tried t'kill me!"
The police officer turned to look at Dan. “Sir?"
“He had a gun. I was afraid he'd shoot Brandy, so I—” Dan merely lifted one hand.
The boy shrieked. “He's a fuckin’ monster!” He reached inside his shirt, causing both officers to reach for their guns—but it wasn't a weapon he was after. It was a gold cross on a thong, which he held out toward Dan, in classic vampire film fashion.
Dan held his ground. The male officer said, “We'll need your statements. Will you press charges?"
“Of course,” said Brandy, despite the strong negative she felt from Dan.
“I had to fall in love with a cop,” he said glumly. The two officers exchanged a knowing smile.
“We'll make it as fast as possible, Sir,” said the male officer. “Can you drive your car?"
Brandy replied, “Sure—it's just a broken window. We'll follow you in."
The thief practically dragged the officers to the police car in his efforts to stay away from Dan. “He's a vampire!” the boy insisted as the cops tried to read him his rights. “He attacked me! Get a mirror—you'll see!"
“You're not getting out of this by talking crazy, Kid,” the female officer told him.
“I'm sorry,” Brandy told Dan as they brushed the glass off the seat. The shot had gone through the windshield high on the right, not blocking the driver's view. Dan was more comfortable now, but his pain still assailed her.
“You're not responsible for criminals,” he said.
“But I am. If we don't press charges, that boy will be out doing the same thing to someone else."
“Brandy, I'm not arguing. Any other night, it never would have crossed my mind not to press charges."
“Your injuries aren't healing."
“As soon as I feed, they will."
“I'll try to expedite things."
Dan was silent for a few minutes. Then he asked, “You don't suppose they'll believe that boy? Would they give him a lie-detector test?"
“Not when he was caught red-handed."
“I almost killed him,” Dan said quietly. “My influence didn't work. When he threatened you, I wanted to kill him."
“You didn't give him anything more than a bruise, and that was in self-defense."
“I meant to,” he said. “I don't have my usual strength tonight, or I would have hurt him badly."
Realizing that Dan's mood was probably a reaction to his Craving, Brandy tried to reassure him. “Stop worrying, Dan. We'll just give our statements. They won't need both of us for his trial. I'll fly down and testify; the prosecutor will want my credibility as a police officer."
“I couldn't influence that boy. I've never met anyone it didn't work on before. His statement that I'm a vampire will be public record."
“You can't think anyone will believe him!"
“He believes it. And I can't change his mind."
“Don't worry about it,” Brandy insisted. “If he tells his lawyer, he won't be allowed to testify. It sounds too crazy. And even if his accusation did end up in a court transcript, who'd believe it?"
“Anyone who knows as much about vampires and you and I do,” Dan replied flatly.
The local police obviously didn't. Officer Wimbledon, the petite blonde female half of the partnership, pointed to Dan's reflection in the one-way mirror in the interrogation room where they made their official statements. “Vampires!” she snorted derisively. “I hope you won't hold this against Florida. We've got some weirdoes running around, but so has every other state. You here on vacation?"
“That's right,” said Brandy. “We were supposed to start back to Kentucky tomorrow, but I'll have to get that window and the windshield glazed."
Wimbledon gave Brandy the address of a glass shop. “Tell them I sent you. They'll take care of you first thing in the morning. Want to call your insurance agent?"
Brandy did not want something else to delay getting back to their room—but it had to be done. With the police and the insurance agent, and Dan arguing against a trip to the emergency room, it was 1:33am before they were finally free to go.
By that time, Dan was wincing if anyone put so much as a hand between himself and Brandy. Because of the glassless window, they had to lock maps, tour books, the box of tissues, the pillow, and the umbrella into the trunk of the car. The simple task seemed to take forever.
They were hardly in the door before Dan's hands were on Brandy's shoulders. She put both safety locks on the door, then turned to face her vampire lover.
Despite his extended fangs, she kissed him gently with every ounce of reassurance she could muster. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and pulled off Brandy's tee-shirt. She responded by doing the same to his. Quickly, eagerly, they stripped one another, then Dan picked Brandy up and laid her on one of the double beds.
Safely in control, Dan teased her, tickling her throat with his tongue, tracing a wet path down to one breast, suckling that nipple and moving across to the other. When he grazed the tips of his fangs, feather-light, across sensitized skin, she gasped in double arousal.
Their rapport, already stronger than Brandy had ever felt it, grew as Dan set out to pay her back for the delay. Always delightfully oral, tonight he had her writhing and gasping before he entered her, returned to kiss her mouth, then nipped little kisses down to her throat.
Brandy pressed upward, wanting the circuit completed. She felt his fond amusement as he gave her her desire—and his. Sweet satisfaction sang through her veins. Twice pierced, she was giver and receiver, lover and beloved.
The blissful flow ended with a shared burst of ecstasy that left her sated, panting, cradling her love in her arms as their breathing returned to normal. Dan's face was human again, his eyes brimming with love that hovered on the edge of adoration.
Brandy sifted her fingers through his hair, basking in his contentment. Finally, though, she pulled herself together enough to realize how hot and sticky they were.
“Like something out of an Italian movie,” Dan completed her thought, and Brandy chuckled. “Let's take a shower."
There was blood on the sheets and on Dan's legs; his cuts had reopened with their burst of activity. But the injuries were gone now, even his earlier sunburn completely faded. “You couldn't heal until now."