Rising, he pulled on a pair of jeans, tugged on his boots, and went outside. Opening his preternatural senses, he honed in on the scent of her blood. It led him to one of the houses in town.
Shirley's house.
He stared at the front door, remembering the first night he had met her as though it were yesterday.
He had been wandering through the residential area, looking for a secure place to spend the daylight hours, when he heard someone crying....
* * *
Curious, he walked around to the rear of the house. He found the woman lying in a heap at the bottom of a set of stairs that led into the kitchen. There was blood matted in her hair. One ankle was swollen.
She let out a shriek when she saw him.
“Hey, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide with panic, her heart beating wildly as she tried to scrabble away from him.
He knelt beside her. “Take it easy.”
“Go away!”
“You need help, lady. That's a nasty bump on your head. What happened?”
“I . . . I slipped on the steps. I think I might have passed out.” She cringed when he reached for her. “What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to take you inside and bandage your head and your ankle.”
“No! You can't come inside!”
Micah snorted. “Lady, if I was going to kill you, I could just do it here.”
She blinked at him, as if that had never occurred to her.
He settled her in his arms. “So, are you going to invite me in or not?”
* * *
He had been surprised by how quickly they had become friends. And, eventually, lovers.
Dammit, he'd left Holly at Blair House. What was she doing here, of all places? He reached for the doorknob, determined to find out, only to frown when the door refused to open. For a moment, he considered breaking it down; instead, he dissolved into mist, intending to slip inside, only to discover that he couldn't.
Materializing, he rang the bell.
“Who is it?”
“Who the hell do you think?” He heard a click as Holly unlocked the door.
Hands fisted on her hips, she glared at him. “Do you intend for me to starve to death? There's nothing to eat in this place.”
Micah blinked at her, amused by her temper. “What would you like?”
“I don't care! I'm starving. I haven't eaten since last night!”
“Tell me what you want and I'll get it for you.”
“Anything! If you're going to keep me imprisoned, the least you can do is feed me.” Saintcrow had promised to stock the cupboards. Apparently, he had forgotten.
“As you wish,” Micah retorted, his own anger rising.
Before she could say anything else, he was gone.
“People come and go so quickly here,” she muttered. “l feel like Dorothy in the Land of Oz.”
* * *
A short time later, there was a sharp rap on the door. When Holly opened it, she found Micah on the porch, his arms laden with grocery bags.
“Are you going to invite me in?” He frowned, wondering why he couldn't enter the house. He thought about it a minute, then decided it must be Saintcrow's doing.
“No.”
A muscle worked in Micah's jaw, but he didn't say a word. He placed the bags on the porch, turned, and walked away.
Holly stared after him. What was she doing? Did she want to spend the next three weeks stuck in this house with no one to talk to? Micah was the only friend she had in this place. Well, he wasn't exactly a friend, she thought. Still . . . she started to call him back, but it was too late. He was already gone.
She had pulled the bags into the foyer and was about to close the door when a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of the house. She frowned when Saintcrow stepped out of the car.
“Evening, Holly.”
“How did you know I was here?”
He lifted one brow.
Oh, right, she thought. More vampire hocus-pocus.
Moving to the rear of the car, he opened the trunk, removed several large boxes, and stacked them in front of the door. “I'd bring them in for you, but I'm pretty sure you'd rather I didn't.”
“What is all this?”
“I promised to feed you, didn't I? I think you'll find everything you need in there. If not, just let me know. I'm not up-to-date on today's food choices, so Kadie made me a list. A rather long list,” he added ruefully.
“Thank you.”
Saintcrow glanced past her. “I thought Micah would be here.”
“He was. He brought me some groceries, too.”
Saintcrow nodded. “Cut the kid some slack, why don't you? He's only doing what's best for you. It's easy to see that he cares about you. And just as obvious that you care for him.”
“Don't be ridiculous. He's a vampire.”
“He's still a man.” Saintcrow gestured at the boxes. “You'd better get those inside before the ice cream melts. If you get lonely, I know Kadie would love some female company.” With a wave of his hand, he slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes and pulled away from the curb.
Holly stared after him. He seemed so friendly, so normal, except for that aura of power that clung to him.
With a sigh, she pulled the boxes into the house, locked the door, and then carried the groceries into the kitchen. Saintcrow had, indeed, bought everything she would need, and more. Added to what Micah had brought, she had everything she could possibly want. She grinned as she found several bags of candy, including one of miniature Midnight Dark Milky Ways.
Murmuring, “Bless you, Kadie,” Holly unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth.
Kadie Saintcrow might be a vampire, but it was obvious she hadn't forgotten what it was like to be human and female. Every woman knew that, whatever the problem, chocolate was the answer.
* * *
Holly opened the front door, her gaze sweeping the darkness. Overhead, thick gray clouds played hide-and-seek with a bright yellow moon. A faint breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. Shivering, she closed and locked the door, trying not to think about the fact that she was the only game in town. It reminded her of those old horror moviesâhelpless female stranded in a town of vampires. All that was missing was Christopher Lee and some creepy background music.
Earlier that evening, she had washed all the dishes and silverware in the kitchen, just to have something to do. She had changed the sheets on the king-size bed, scrubbed the sinks and the bathtub, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the rugs with an old Hoover she found in one of the hall closets. Then she had spent a long, lonely night watching one movie after another.
One day down, only twenty to go
, she thought glumly. Going to the front window, she drew back the curtains but there was nothing to see other than her own reflection.
Where was Micah? Was he as bored as she? Or was he out preying on some poor unsuspecting soul? How did vampires spend their nights when they weren't hunting the helpless?
If she called his name, would he hear her? Could he read her mind when they weren't together?
“Micah?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
* * *
Micah slouched in the back row of the movie theater, his feet propped on the back of the seat in front of him. On the screen, Steve McQueen chased a fugitive across an airport runway. It was one of Micah's favorite movies.
He jerked upright when he heard Holly call his name. From the subdued tone of her voice, he knew she wasn't hurt or in trouble.
Curiosity and a burning desire to see her again took Micah to her door. Instead of knocking, he spoke to her mind.
I hear you. If you want to talk, I'm on the porch.
The door opened a moment later, and Holly stood there, looking more than a little surprised to see him.
He leaned his shoulder against the jamb. “You called?”
“You really heard me. That's so . . . so . . . fantastic.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn't be here if you hadn't called,” he said, his voice flat. “Last time I was here, you made it pretty clear you wanted to be left alone.”
“Can you blame me? All this supernatural stuff isn't easy to process, you know. When you've spent your whole life believing vampires are myths, it takes some time to get used to the idea that they're real.”
He snorted. “Tell me about it.”
“Then you know what I mean. And if vampires are real, what about werewolves and zombies and . . .” She waved her hand in the air. “Who knows what else?”
“Well, I've never met any werewolves. I'm not sure what Mahlon is, but I'm pretty sure he's not a zombie.”
Holly folded her arms over her breasts.
“Was there something you wanted?” Micah asked.
“Just some company.”
He nodded. “I know you don't want me inside, so why don't you come out here and sit on the swing?”
She hesitated only a moment before crossing the threshold. The swing creaked when she sat down.
Micah leaned against the porch rail across from her.
“Tell me about your life,” Holly said. “What do you do for fun?”
“Fun?” He shrugged. “The same things as most people, I guess. I like movies. Rock concerts. A good murder mystery. Going to the beach. Of course, a suntan is out of the question.”
Holly laughed, and some of the tension drained out of her. “What did you do before . . . you know?”
“I was pursuing a career as an actor. A well-known director saw me in a low-budget film and offered me a part in a big-budget movie shooting in Cody, Wyoming. It was supposed to be my big break. I wasn't the star, but I was in several pivotal scenes with the main character. The director had high hopes for me, said I had the right âlook' for his next project.
“And then one night I met Lilith in a bar. We had a few drinks and a few laughs. Later she took me to what I thought was her house.” He shook his head. “I was more than a little drunk, and she was very persuasive. One thing led to another.... Hell, I don't even remember most of it. When I woke the next night, I was a vampire and she was gone. Being a new vampire pretty much put an end to my career in showbiz.”
“That must have been terrible for you.” Holly couldn't begin to imagine how he must have felt, how frightening it must have been, to realize that in one night his whole life had been turned upside down.
“Terrible doesn't begin to describe it. I think I went a little crazy in the beginning. The hunger will do that to you if you don't keep it in check. Later, Saintcrow told me that when a vampire turns someone, they're supposed to hang around awhile, at least long enough to explain what's happened, you know? Long enough to teach their fledgling how to survive.”
“What did Saintcrow teach you, exactly? I mean, once you became a vampire, didn't you just instinctively know what to do?”
“Not quite. The only thing I knew that first night was a searing, insatiable thirst unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I would have done anything to put an end to it. Saintcrow taught me how to hunt. How to satisfy my hunger without killing. He showed me how to make feeding pleasant for those I preyed on.” Micah regretted his choice of words when Holly grimaced with revulsion. “Sorry.”
“How do you do that? Make it pleasant?”
“I'd be happy to show you,” he said with a wicked grin.
“No way!”
“It's a little like making love. You can do it slow and easy and give your partner pleasure, or you can just take what you want with no thought for anyone but yourself.”
His voice, low and sexy, moved over her like invisible fingers. The sensation was so real, she would have sworn he was caressing her. But that was impossible.
Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she said, “Go on.”
“Slow and easy is always best.” Micah grinned at her. “He also taught me the importance of finding a safe place to spend the day. How to detect hunters. How to use all the preternatural powers that were now mine.”
“Have you ever turned anyone?”
“No. I don't want the responsibility.”
“I guess I can understand that.” She regarded him a moment, then said, “I asked you once before if you liked being a vampire. You never answered me.”
Micah shrugged. “It has its perks. I like the strength and the speed. Never being sick. Not having to worry about getting old and helpless.” He'd been eight or nine when his maternal grandfather had gotten sick. The old man had hung on for over a year, growing weaker with every passing day. The thought of lingering like that, slowly wasting away, had given Micah nightmares for months.
“But?”
“I miss the sun. Food.” He paused. “My family.”
“They don't know what happened to you?”
“It's not an easy thing to talk about. What do I say? Hi, Mom and Dad. What's new with you? Oh, by the way, I'm a vampire now.”
“Maybe you should just tell them. I'm sure they'd understand.”
“You mean the way you did?”
“I'm not your mother, but if I was, it wouldn't make any difference in my feelings. It's not like you're some kind of out-of-control monster.”
“Believe me, I think about it all the time,” he admitted. “I don't go home as often as I'd like, because it's hard to hide what I am. Hard to make excuses for why I can't stay for dinner, why I can't play a round of golf with my dad, or play catch with my nephews, stuff like that. It's easier to stay away. As far as they know, I'm still pursuing my acting career.” He blew out a sigh. “In a few years, I won't be able to go home at all.”