Out of the Night (14 page)

At that moment the waitress appeared with their food and reality intruded, at least for Lanie, as she watched Mac dig enthusiastically into his steak. From where she sat, the only part of it that wasn't bloodred and raw was the seared outer layer. It was almost enough to turn her stomach, but it didn't seem to bother Mac at all, and that fact set the alarm bells in her mind to ringing loudly. Was this a normal food preference for him or, like all the other changes occurring in him, had he suffered a change in palate? Did he now prefer the taste of blood?

After a while, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to know. "Do you always take your steak that rare?"

He stopped, a bite halfway to his mouth, and stared at the meat as if seeing it for the first time. "No. In fact, I usually order it medium, but tonight—I don't know—it sounded good."

He put the bite in his mouth and chewed, but his previous good mood seemed to vanish and he became thought-fill and quiet. There were a couple of times when Lanie got the impression that he was trying not to finish the steak. In the end, he left part of it untouched, and Lanie wondered what he would have done if she hadn't been there, watching. He didn't eat the vegetables or the rolls served with the meal, which she also found unusual, but this time, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Mac seemed preoccupied, and they didn't talk at all as he walked her back to the room.

"I'll come get you later when it's time to go see the admiral."

"Okay." She found her key card, but before she could slip it into the lock, Mac took it and did it for her. After the green light blinked, he opened the door and followed her inside. She waited, curious about his intent, but after looking around, he went back to stand beside her at the door.

"Get some sleep, okay?" There was a moment of awkward silence as they gazed at each other. Lanie felt her heart speed up and found it difficult to breathe. Inside her, anticipation built. Then, suddenly, the moment was over and Mac put a hand on the knob and opened the door to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked, cringing at the pathetic, almost desperate sound of her voice.

"I'm not tired, so I thought I'd go out for a while."

She wasn't sure what to think. "Do you want some company?"

"Not tonight."

"Are you sure? Because I'm not the least bit tired—" A yawn cut off the rest of her words, undermining her best intentions.

"Good night, Lanie."

She moved forward as he stepped into the hallway and put her hand on the door, ready to close it. "Good night." She didn't know how much of her was worried about where he was going versus the fact that he was leaving and she missed him.

"Lanie?" He reached through the opening of the door before she shut it completely and laid his hand against her cheek in a gentle caress. She gazed into his eyes, wondering what thoughts raced through his head; wondering if he was as affected as she.

Then, before she realized what he was going to do, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was over before she could recover.

"Keep your connecting door locked, okay?" He stepped back out into the hallway and closed her door while she stood in shock. By the rime she could move again and open the door, the hall was empty and he was gone.

She moved in a kind of trance as she showered and changed into a nightshirt. She went back in her mind to relive the exact moment when his lips touched hers, trying to re-create the sizzle that shot through her. Part of her longed for another chance to experience those feelings with him, while the more grounded part of her listed all the reasons why that wasn't a good idea.

At long last, she climbed into bed and lay there, her ears straining to hear sounds of Mac's return while her gaze kept returning to the digital readout of the clock on the nightstand. She tried not to think about where he was or what he was doing, and cursed her imagination that saw him picking up women in the bar one minute and drinking their blood the next.

She finally turned on the TV for distraction and fell asleep.

When she awoke hours later, the sun was high in the sky and she felt much better. Crawling out of bed, she wondered what time Mac had finally made it back—
if
he'd made it back—and before she could stop the thought, if he'd returned alone.

Despite the fact that it was almost noon, she picked up the small in-room coffeepot and filled it with water, which she then poured into the back of the coffeemaker. It was never too late for coffee, she thought, placing the prepackaged coffee and filter into the holder and starting the machine.

She wandered into the bathroom to shower and by the time she was done, so was me coffee. Slipping her nightshirt back on, she poured a cup and took a sip, feeling the hot liquid slide down her throat and imagining caffeine racing through her system. She immediately felt better. Carrying the cup to the bed, she sat on the end and watched TV while she drank.

The local midday news was just coming on, so she turned up the volume. She wasn't really paying attention until a story about homeless men found dead in a nearby alley caught her attention. The man reporting the story described the scene as one of "the most baffling" authorities had ever seen. The bodies were found with two puncture wounds on the sides of their necks. An interview with the medical examiner revealed that the men had lost massive quantities of blood—and yet there was little blood found at the scene.

Lanie reached out to put the coffee cup on the nearby table, almost missing it in her dazed state. The crime scene wasn't that far from the hotel, and the reporter said the victims had been killed sometime in the early morning hours.

Suddenly she had to know if Mac was in his room, yet a part of her was almost afraid of what she'd find.

Going to stand by the connecting doors, she pressed her ear against it. For several seconds, all she heard was the sound of her own breathing. Then the phone rang next door. She waited for Mac to answer it, but he never did. Finally, it stopped.

She knocked on the door, but heard no sound of movement on the other side. She knocked again, this time louder. Still, nothing.

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was open her door and barge in on Mac if he was in bed with someone else, but then reason asserted itself. Mac wasn't a hormonally driven teenager who forgot everything at the prospect of getting lucky. If he'd brought a woman back to his room, he would have closed and locked his part of the connecting doors. She had only to open her door to get her answer.

She turned the lock and eased open the door, noticing that his door was open and the room was still clothed in shadows from the tightly drawn drapes. Lanie leaned into the room far enough to see the bed and noticed a form lying there—a solitary form.

She heaved a sigh of relief.
Mac is asleep, that's all
. If he'd gotten back really late, then it made sense that he'd sleep so soundly.

The phone started ringing again. For the briefest moment, she hesitated, then she dashed across the room to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Lanie?" It was Dirk Adams's voice and it held a note of amusement. "Is Mac there?"

"He's asleep."

"Rough night, eh?" Yes, he was definitely amused. "Will you have him call me as soon as he's awake?" His tone sobered. "It's important, so the sooner the better."

"Okay." She replaced the receiver and debated on what to do. She needed to wake him.

She started for the curtains but stopped, remembering what happened the last time she'd tried that. Instead, she crossed to the desk and turned on the lamp, sending a soft, dim glow across the room.

Mac didn't stir. Walking over to the bed, she called his name softly—but got no reaction. She tried again, a little louder, with the same results. She couldn't help but wonder if he was ill. After all, mat steak last night had been extremely raw—maybe he'd come down with food poisoning.

She checked his complexion and saw it had a grayish pallor. When she placed her hand against his forehead, it felt cold and clammy. The covers of the bed were pushed down around his waist and almost of their own volition, her eyes strayed over his bare chest and powerful arms. He lay on his side, facing her, so still that she had to watch carefully for several minutes before she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. At least he was alive.

Lanie placed her hand on his upper arm and tried to shake him awake. This time he stirred, but still did not open his eyes.

Placing her fingers against the base of his wrist, she checked his pulse. It was slow, too slow.

"That's it," she muttered to herself. "I'm calling for an ambulance."

She reached for the phone, but suddenly found her wrist caught in a powerful grip. "Mac? Are you all right?"

He didn't answer, merely stared as if he didn't really see her. There was something else about his eyes that bothered her. They seemed to glow.

Not knowing whether to be afraid or not, Lanie found herself being pulled slowly toward him. When his lips captured hers, all rational thought left her.

Mac wasn't sure at what point he realized the erotic dream was real, but his surprise was quickly replaced by pure, raw need and desire when he felt Lanie's lush body against his on the bed. With his mouth already covering hers, he rolled, trapping her beneath him as he ran his tongue across her lips, coaxing them to open. It took only a Utile encouragement before she did and then his tongue delved inside.

Her eager response only excited him further and he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her nightshirt to cup her breast, slowly kneading her fullness. He wanted to feel her naked body pressed against his, so he quickly pulled the nightshirt over her head and tossed it behind him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he kissed first her mouth and then began to work his way down the column of her throat, all too aware of her rapid pulse pounding beneath the surface of the tender skin. He ran his tongue along it, causing them both to shiver and when she uttered a small cry, he shifted his weight so the hard evidence of his arousal pressed the juncture of her legs.

He wanted to take her right then and there, but a small voice cautioned him to slow down. The tension and desire in him grew, leaving him shaking with the need to possess her. His heart pounded in a primitive tempo, and he held her to him by wrapping both arms tightly around her, his mouth pressed to me base of her throat as his hips thrust against hers in an effort to satisfy the lust raging inside. When she rubbed her hips against him, the need exploded inside him. Baring his teeth, he bit down.

White-hot lights exploded behind her eyes, quickly fading as Lanie realized that Mac had scrambled away from her. Feeling exposed without his body covering hers, she looked up at him in dazed confusion. Slowly, she realized that they would not be finishing what they'd started, and she took a deep breath to keep from screaming her frustration at missing out on what had promised to be the sexual experience of a lifetime.

About to give Mac a piece of her mind for leading her on, she stopped, noticing the expression on his face. He was staring at her as if she were some type of sexual pariah. What had she done, she wondered, to make him change his mind? As the lust-crazed fog in her brain evaporated, she saw the red liquid covering his lips and seeping from the corner of his mouth. Her mind fought to make sense of what she saw, but the concept was too horrifying.

Almost in slow motion, she saw him swallow and then lick the remaining moisture from his lips.

The feel of something warm running down her neck broke the trance she was in, and she slapped a hand to her neck and felt the moisture. Almost afraid to look, she pulled her hand away, saw the blood covering her fingers, and realized what had happened.

Mac had bitten her!