Night's Pleasure (15 page)

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. What madness had tempted him to bring her to this lonely place in the mountains? No one had come here in years. If he lost control of his hunger, there would be no one to save her, no one to hear her scream.

Savanah woke when the car came to a stop. “Are we here?”

“No. I thought you might want to buy a few things before we reach the cabin.”

Glancing out the window, she saw that they were parked in front of a small market.

Rane followed her inside, then trailed behind her as she walked up and down the aisles, filling her cart with the basic necessities.

She shopped quickly and in less than half an hour, they were back on the road.

She was dozing when the car stopped a short time later.

Sitting up, she glanced out the window. To her left, surrounded by tall pines, sat a large white, two-story house with a slate-blue roof and a covered veranda. Beyond that was only darkness.

She looked at Rane. The word
Vampire
whispered through the back of her mind, sending a shiver of unease skittering down her spine. What was she doing here, with a man—a Vampire—she had known for only a few weeks? She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of. He'd had numerous opportunities to drain her dry if he was so inclined. She told herself she was just being silly. She was tired from the drive. She had been under a lot of stress, what with her father's death and learning that Rane was a Vampire. But no matter how many excuses she made, she couldn't stifle that little innate twinge of fear that was experienced when creatures of prey were in the presence of a predator. And then she stiffened her spine as she remembered that she was a hunter, too! She had a sharpened stake in her handbag and a bottle of holy water in her coat pocket to prove it.

She forced a smile when Rane shut off the ignition and turned to face her.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Why?”

He smiled, a slow, sexy smile. “I hope you don't play poker.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, frowning.

“It means your thoughts are as easy to read as print on a page.”

She had forgotten he could read her mind. “That's not fair, you know.”

“Honey, I don't have to read your mind to know what you're thinking. You don't trust me.”

She started to deny it, but what was the point? He would know she was lying. So she went on the defensive instead. “Can you blame me? Vampires killed my parents, and—”

“Dammit, Savanah,” he said quietly. “I didn't do it.”

“I know that, but…”

“Forget it. I don't blame you for the way you feel. It's normal. Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

He studied her face a moment, then got out of the car.

She watched him walk around the front of the car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her. She didn't hesitate when he offered her his hand. For better or worse, her fate was now tied to his.

In spite of her brave façade, she followed him somewhat warily into the house. A wave of his hand and a fire sprang to life in the stone hearth. She figured she must be getting used to the Supernatural, since she hardly jumped at all.

He turned on the lights, revealing a large, rectangular room with plush beige carpeting and dark red velvet draperies. Twin white sofas were placed on either side of an enormous marble fireplace. In one corner, a round black table polished to a high sheen sat between a pair of overstuffed red velvet chairs. Several paintings decorated the walls. A sword in a silver sheath hung over the mantel. There were no mirrors in evidence.

“What do you think?” Rane asked, coming up beside her.

“It's very nice.” When he'd mentioned a place in the mountains, she had pictured a little log cabin decorated with deer heads and secondhand furniture. “Who did you say this belonged to?”

“I told you, an old friend of the family.”

“How old?”

“No one really knows,” Rane said, grinning, “but it's rumored she knew Cleopatra.”

“I don't believe you! Nobody, nothing, lives that long.”

“Maybe not,” Rane said with a shrug, “but that's the rumor. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the place.”

In addition to the living room, the main floor housed a roomy kitchen with black appliances, a high, round oak table and four chairs, and shuttered windows. There were two good-sized bedrooms, both with fireplaces and private baths. Again, there were no mirrors to be seen. The décor was sparse, but what there was, was quality. She glanced at the Monets hanging in the bedrooms and the Picasso in the hallway. She wasn't an expert, but they looked like the real deal. She thought the frames alone probably cost more than her car.

“And this is the playroom,” Rane said, leading the way downstairs.

The basement had been converted into a rec room dominated by a large satellite screen. Savanah shook her head. No expense had been spared in decorating this room. A couple of comfy-looking leather sofas sat on either side of an enormous glass-topped coffee table. Matching armchairs were arranged in a cozy grouping. A regulation-sized pool table occupied the far end of the room.

Savanah quickly perused a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with books, puzzles, and a score of electronic games. She saw a desk with a state-of-the-art computer and a twenty-one-inch monitor at the other end of the room. A doorway led to a roomy bathroom, and beyond that, a laundry room.

“There's a pool out back,” Rane said. He opened the curtains, then flipped a switch, illuminating a covered patio, a round table and a number of chairs.

“Your friend must be very rich,” Savanah exclaimed.

“So they say.”

“Are you sure she won't mind our staying here?”

“I'm sure. Besides being a friend of the family, she's also my godmother.”

“I've heard of fairy godmothers,” Savanah mused, “but a Vampire godmother? That's a new one on me.”

Rane laughed softly as he drew Savanah into his arms. “You never fail to delight me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her lips.

She blinked up at him, momentarily distracted by his kiss and his nearness.

A roguish smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Drat the man. He knew exactly what effect his kisses had on her, whether they were long and slow, or short and sweet.

Determined not to stroke his already inflated ego, she gestured at a narrow doorway beside the bookshelf. “Where does that go?”

“To the subbasement.”

“What's down there?”

“Mara's private quarters.”

“Really? I don't suppose…?”

“No, you can't go down there. Come on, there's more to see.”

Taking her hand, he led her back upstairs to the main floor, and then up a short flight of steps that opened into a master suite that held a king-size bed, a matching dresser and nightstands, a satellite screen, and a corner fireplace. The adjoining sitting area was furnished with two rocking chairs, a low table, and a bookshelf filled with a number of books and DVDs.

“It's lovely,” Savanah said. And indeed it was. The walls were off-white, the quilt on the bed was burgundy, as were the matching drapes that covered the room's single window. The thick white carpet beneath her feet made her want to take off her shoes and wiggle her toes. “If she sleeps downstairs…?”

“This is the, uh, guestroom, I guess you'd call it.”

He didn't have to spell it out for her. Being a Vampire, Mara wouldn't let anyone else into her lair, so this was where she “entertained” her male companions.

Rane grinned wryly as comprehension dawned in Savanah's eyes and pinked her cheeks. “This will be your room.”

“Are you going to share it with me?” She hadn't intended to ask that. Only hours ago, she had wondered if she would ever be able to share a bed with him again.

“Is that an invitation?”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Only if you want it to be.”

“What do you think?”

She pretended to consider it a moment, then smiled. “I think the bed is big enough for two.” In point of fact, it was big enough for three or four. The thought made her cheeks burn hotter.

“Maybe we'll find out later,” Rane said, winking at her. “Do you want to help me carry in our bags?”

“Sure.”

Savanah followed Rane outside. Since they had stopped at the store earlier, there were several sacks of groceries in addition to their luggage. It took only a few minutes to collect everything. Rane dropped their luggage on the floor inside the front door, then took two of the grocery bags from Savanah's arms and followed her into the kitchen.

Savanah opened the nearest cupboard. She didn't know why she was surprised to find it empty. However, a second cupboard was filled with a set of beautiful crystal wineglasses.

She looked at Rane askance.

He shrugged. “My family likes a glass of wine now and then.

Savanah nodded, wondering if wine was the only thing his family drank out of the delicate stemware.

“What about the stove and refrigerator? Don't tell me your family likes to cook, too?”

He chuckled. “No, but occasionally Mara brings a mortal to visit.”

Savanah looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“She takes mortal lovers from time to time,” he explained with a shrug. “They need food and drink.”

She couldn't help wondering if Mara's mortal visitors
became
food and drink, but she didn't ask. Shaking off the morbid thought, she opened the refrigerator to put the milk, butter, vegetables, fruit, and cheese away. “Does she keep the electricity on all the time?”

“No. I called ahead.”

With a nod, Savanah closed the door. It took only moments to put away the rest of the groceries. With nothing else to do, she felt suddenly awkward and uncertain.

“Come on,” Rane said, “let's go sit in front of the fire and relax.”

“All right.”

Savanah sat on one of the sofas, her legs curled beneath her. Rane sat at the other end, one arm draped along the back of the couch. Silence stretched between them.

Savanah watched the flames dancing in the stone hearth, her thoughts filled with memories of her father. It was hard to believe she would never see him again, never hear him crack his silly jokes, or read his funny e-mails. Never again would they argue politics, or stay up late working out the details of a newspaper article. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and the next thing she knew, she was sobbing.

She hadn't seen him move, but in the space of a heartbeat, Rane was sitting beside her, his strong arm around her shoulders. She collapsed against him, needing his strength, grateful for his hand lightly stroking her hair, his voice assuring her that, in time, she would be able to remember the good times she had spent with her father without feeling the pain of his loss.

“How long?” she asked. “How long will it take for the pain to go away?”

“It varies,” he said, brushing a kiss across the top of her head. “Usually a year or two, but it will get a little easier to bear every day.”

A year or two. It sounded like forever.

With a sigh, she snuggled against his side. Never, in all her life, had she been so confused. She was supposed to be a Vampire hunter, yet here she was, cuddling on the sofa with one of the Nosferatu when she should be thinking of ways to take his head. She was grieving for her father, wondering what to do with the rest of her life, yet she had invited Rane to share her bed. Did she really want to hunt Vampires? Did she want to continue working for the
Chronicle?
Would she be happier if she sold the house and moved to a new city? Someplace she had never been before, where there were no memories to remind her of all she had lost? She wished she had a crystal ball she could gaze into and see her future.

She wished…that Rane would kiss her.

Slowly, he drew her into his arms, his dark eyes searching hers, giving her plenty of time to change her mind.

For once, she was glad he could read her mind. It made everything so much easier. His kiss was long and slow and tender, masterful without being demanding, asking nothing, giving her only pleasure and forgetfulness.

 

Rane gazed down at Savanah. Her even breathing told him she had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on his chest, one arm draped across his waist. It amazed him that she trusted him enough to rest in his embrace. Of course, she had no idea how her blood called to him, whispering to his hunger. He could almost taste her on his tongue, feel the warmth of her life's essence sliding down his throat.

What was he to do with her?

He eased the hair away from her neck. Such a lovely neck, smooth and slender. His gaze was drawn to the pulse beating slow and steady in the hollow of her throat, echoing the rhythm of her heart's beat, calling to him, tempting him.

A taste, he thought. Just one taste, to ease his hunger, to satisfy his unholy craving. Just one taste…