“Tomorrow?” She glanced down at the robe she was still wearing. “Do you have a T-shirt or something that I could wear until then?”
“I think so.” Heat pooled in his groin at the thought of her wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing more.
With a nod, she tucked the book under her arm and left the room.
Ronan leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, his fingers steepled. Since Eva’s last six books had made all the bestseller lists, including the prestigious New York Times list, his editor had been after him to let them put his photo in the backs of his novels. A couple of the talk shows wanted to interview him on early-morning radio and his agent had been pressuring him to do so. Thus far, he had refused for obvious reasons. But what if Shannah pretended to be Eva Black? He could send Shannah’s photo to his editor. Shannah could do the interviews at the radio stations.
It was an intriguing idea. He could please his agent and his editor and get the publisher off his back all at the same time.
He turned back to the computer screen, his senses acutely aware of the woman in the kitchen. She was making spaghetti sauce. He could smell tomatoes, basil and oregano. But mostly, he could smell the woman. The scent of her blood was tantalizing, more so now that he had tasted her.
His hands curled over the edge of the desk. Why had he let her stay here? Did he really think he could keep his hunger under control when she was so close, so available? His grip on the edge of the desk tightened. The wood creaked under the strain.
Muttering an oath, he rose and began to pace the floor. Over the centuries, he had seen death in all its forms. None of them were pretty. Only a few mortals were lucky enough to expire peacefully in their sleep. She was dying, and she was far too young, and far too fair, to succumb to such a cruel fate. So he had given her a few drops of his blood to buy her a little more time, though he didn’t know how much. A couple of days, a couple of weeks, perhaps a month or so, if she was lucky.
She didn’t want to die.
He could arrange that. He knew how, though he had never bestowed the Dark Trick on anyone before. It was tempting, so tempting, but that would defeat his purpose for letting her stay. Aside from wanting photos and pestering him to do interviews and local book signings, his editor and his agent were both pressuring him to go on tour. It would be good publicity, they said. Readers liked to meet their favorite authors. It would be beneficial to meet the managers of some of the larger romance-friendly bookstores. It would be good for sales.
He had stalled as long as he could but he was running out of valid excuses.
Hence his need for Shannah. He could give her enough of his blood to form a link between them. He would be able to read her thoughts; if he wished it, she would be able to read his. They could go on tour together, with her pretending to be him when necessary. Through the link, he would be able to give her the answers to whatever questions readers or the news media might ask about his writing, at least after sundown. And if her health started to fail again, he had only to give her a little more of his blood.
It seemed an easy solution to the problem, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Now, he had only to convince her. And if she refused…He smiled. She would agree, whether she wished it or not.
Going on tour would solve another problem, as well. He grimaced, annoyed with himself for choosing to quit the field rather than to simply stay and kill the vampire hunter who had come to town. He didn’t know if the hunter was hunting him or if it was merely coincidence that the man had come to this place at this time. Ronan leaned against the edge of his desk, his fingertips drumming on the surface. He didn’t want to kill the man if he didn’t have to, but, should it become necessary, he wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done.
Dropping back down into his chair, Ronan picked up the magazine he had bought a few days earlier. It was a national entertainment magazine, published weekly. An article touted on the front cover had caught his eye. The story “Vampires Among Us—Truth or Legend?” had been written by a freelance reporter named Carl Overstreet.
Ronan wondered if it had been the article that had brought the hunter to town. Propping his feet on the corner of his desk, he began to read:
Vampires. The very word makes your flesh crawl…with terror or titillation, depending on your point of view.
Vampires have been a subject of fascination and horror for countless centuries. Every culture and civilization throughout the known world, both past and present, have their own myths and legends about vampires, be they skeletal creatures who feast on human blood or psychic vampires who prey on the energy of their victims, leaving them exhausted in both body and spirit.
Thanks to the creative imagination of Bram Stoker, Count Dracula is probably the most famous bloodsucker of all time. Unlike the skeletal creature depicted in the silent movie, Nosferatu, the Count has been played as being suave and sensual by Frank Langella, witty and winsome by George Hamilton, sympathetic by Gary Oldman, downright scary by Christopher Lee in a series of Hammer films, as well as for laughs in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, and by Leslie Nielsen in Dracula: Dead and Loving It.
So, what do we really know about these creatures of the night? Popular fiction says they sleep by day and hunt by night. They can’t be seen in mirrors, they are repelled by crosses, holy water and garlic. Some believe they must sleep in their coffins; others believe they must rest on the earth of their homeland. Some believe vampires are capable of flight, of transforming into bats or wolves and of changing their size and dimension. It is commonly believed that they are able to control animals and the weather, and hypnotize mortals to do their will.
But did vampires ever truly exist? Do they exist now? Do vampires walk among us, unseen and unknown? Every year, hundreds of people disappear without a trace, never to be heard from or seen again. Are vampires responsible? During the next few months I’ll be traveling the country, digging deeper into the legend and mystique of vampires and other so-called creatures of the night.
Until next month, dear reader, watch your neck!
Muttering, “You’d better watch your own neck, you damn fool,” Ronan tossed the magazine into the wastebasket beside his desk.
Shannah glanced over her shoulder. She hadn’t heard him enter the room but she knew he was there, standing just inside the doorway like some huge bird of prey ready to swoop down and carry her away. She grinned inwardly. Since her illness, her imagination had gone into overdrive.
“Did you change your mind about dinner?” she asked.
“No.” His gaze focused on the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. He could hear the blood flowing through her veins, its music like a Siren’s call to his ears. Though he had fed earlier, the hunger, ever-present, clawed at his vitals. His fangs pricked his tongue.
“Are you all right?” she asked, frowning.
Nodding, he looked away. By sheer force of will, he subdued the craving that burned through him, demanding to be satisfied.
“I’m going out for a while,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Oh, well, I should probably be going home after I eat. If I don’t see you again, I want to thank you now for your hospitality and everything…”
“I’d rather you stayed. Besides,” he said, “you can’t very well go out dressed like that.”
He was right, of course. She had forgotten that she didn’t have anything to wear, and she couldn’t very well go home wearing nothing but his robe, no matter how nice it was. Maybe, when he returned, she could borrow one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants, though his clothes were certain to be far too large. Still, it was better than what she had on now.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “I guess I can stay until tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I meant. I want you to stay here, with me, indefinitely.”