Bestselling author KIMBERLY RAYE started her first novel in high school and has been writing ever since. Currently she is writing a romantic vampire mystery series for Ballantine Books that is in development with ABC for a television pilot. She also writes steamy contemporary reads for the Blaze® line. Kim lives deep in the heart of the Texas Hill Country with her very own cowboy, Curt, and their young children. She’s an avid reader who loves Diet Dr Pepper, chocolate, Toby Keith, chocolate, alpha males (especially vampires) and chocolate. Kim also loves to hear from readers. You can visit her online at www. kimberlyraye.com.

Cody
Kimberly Raye

This book is dedicated to my very own cowboy, Curt.

He’s not a bloodsucker, but he’s still the sexiest man I know.

I love you, honey!

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Copyright

Prologue

Texas, 1865

THE ONLY THING ON CODY Braddock’s mind as he pushed his horse the last mile toward the Circle B was sliding his cock into a warm, willing woman.

It had been months since he’d touched soft, fragrant skin. Smelled the sweet scent of desire. Heard the deep, throaty moans of pure, exquisite pleasure.

He wanted it. He needed it. Which meant his already overdue homecoming would have to wait that much longer.

“I’ll ride in later,” he called out to his older brothers, Brent and Travis, who trotted up front. Colton, the oldest, led the group several yards up ahead. He was anxious.

Cody couldn’t blame him. If he’d had a woman half as sweet as Rose waiting for him, he’d have been anxious to get home, too. But one woman wasn’t his style.

Cody was the youngest. The wildest. And the reason the Braddock Brothers had ridden off four years ago to make a name for themselves as the most indestructible raiding group the Union army had ever had the misfortune to see.

Actually, his three brothers had ridden after him to talk some sense and haul him back by his bootstraps. They’d made a pact as kids to look out for each other. To stick together. They’d had to. Their father had abandoned them when Cody had been a little over five. Lyle Braddock had left his home, his wife and his four boys to ride off in hot pursuit of some saloon whore.

They hadn’t seen him since. Rumor had it Lyle had died in a bar fight, but no one really knew for sure. Nor did they care. They’d been too busy taking care of each other to worry over a man who’d never been much of a father.

When Cody had up and left to join the Confederate cause, his brothers had ridden along to keep an eye on him. They’d seized supplies and helped Confederate troops and given Quantrill and his boys a run for their money when it came to notoriety.

But the war was over now. The South had lost.

Time to go home.

A wave of restlessness swept through him and his chest tightened. He jerked his reins and steered his horse east. He left his brothers behind and headed toward the Red Rooster, the one and only saloon in the territory.

A brunette. That’s what he wanted first. Then a redhead. A blonde after that. Hell, maybe he’d splurge and go for all three at once. He had a lot of time to kill now that the Braddock Brothers were officially disbanded.

He picked up his pace, desperate to burn off the sudden rush of anxiety and defeat that clung to him.

He’d done his best, but it hadn’t been good enough. He hadn’t been good enough. Not during the war, and sure as hell not before.

“You’re not a kid, Cody. Time to get the ants out of your britches and man up.”

His oldest brother’s voice followed him, pushing him harder and faster. He was tired of thinking. About the war. About going home. About being at home.

He’d never been good in any one spot for too long.

Like father, like son.

The notion drove him harder, faster, because as much as he’d promised his brothers he’d give ranching a nice, solid try again, the thought of being stuck in any one place made him feel like he was choking. He needed a few hours first. Time to burn up the energy bubbling inside him. The restlessness. Then he could do it.

He would.

He owed them. They’d saved his ass too many times to count over the past few years and so he intended to bury his damned wanderlust and pull his weight at the Circle B once and for all.

His father might not have been able to do it, but Cody damn well could—

His brain scrambled to a stop as his nostrils flared with the pungent scent of smoke. Whipping his head around, he spotted the black billows that rose in the far distance.

What the…?

A sense of foreboding slithered around his spine. Goosebumps chased up and down his arms and his gut hollowed out. He almost pitched backward as he hauled the horse around.

Seconds later, he was riding hellbent for leather toward his family’s spread. Toward his mother. His sister-in-law. His nephew.

They’d been the ones left at home when the brothers had ridden off four years ago. Just the three of them, a ranch foreman and a half dozen hands. Little match for an attack. Indian or otherwise.

The smoke grew thicker, clawing at his nose and clogging up his lungs. He covered his mouth and pushed harder until he finally broke through the trees and found himself smack dab in the middle of hell.

Flames licked at the main house where he’d grown up. Fire consumed the three surrounding barns. Frightened horses stomped around, dodging the smoke and the flames as they fought for a way out of the chaos. Shouts carried from the barn and fear spiraled through him. Cody jumped off his horse, determined to find his brothers and figure out what the hell was going on.

Something bad.

Something really bad.

He started forward, but a faint whimper stalled him in his tracks.

He whirled toward the house and blinked against the burning smoke and heat. Sparks flew and the right corner of the house caved in. He hauled his collar up and over his mouth and pushed through the fog. His eyes burned and watered as he drank in his surroundings. The sound slid into his ears again and drew him toward the left and the familiar pink dress visible just beneath the porch steps.

He was on the woman in a heartbeat, pulling her away from the fast crumbling house.

Sis Braddock’s eyes were closed, her face covered with soot. Blood pumped from the deep gash across the side of her neck and soaked her dress. So much blood.

“Ma,” Cody breathed and the woman’s eyelids flickered open.

“I—I tried to stop him,” she gurgled. Her fingers tightened on the iron brand clutched in her grip. Blood caked the familiar B and sucker-punched Cody right in his gut. “But…h-he started…fire.” A line of red spurted from the corner of her mouth and pain twisted her features. “I—I couldn’t…get to…them.”

“Where’s Rose and Michael?”

But he already knew. Deep in his gut, he knew even before she croaked out the one word.

“Dead.” She shuddered. Her chest jerked as she tried to breathe. The blood gushed faster. “You came back,” she managed, the words soft and gurgled. “I knew you would. I knew…”

Because she’d believed in him when no one else had. When he’d been five years old and old Mister Arnold had accused him of stealing a pig. When he’d been twelve and Pastor Willard had blamed him for the missing hymnals.

She’d been wrong on both counts, just as she’d been wrong about his father. She’d always believed Lyle would change his mind and come back. That he would straighten up and come home.

“My boy…” Her body shuddered. The brand slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground.

“I’m here, Ma. I’m here.” He shook her, but it was too late. Her body was limp. Lifeless. “No!”

Anger and denial whirled around Cody, twining around him and squeezing tight until he couldn’t breathe. He grabbed the brand and staggered to his feet.

“I tried to stop him.”

Her desperate words echoed in his head, driving him around, toward the barn and the chaos and him.

It hadn’t been Indians. He would have heard the war cries and seen the evidence. This was different.

Evil.

Fire crackled. Wood crumbled. Sparks spewed. Cody didn’t care. He headed straight for hell, determined to take whoever was responsible with him.

He made it three steps before the back of his skull exploded with pain and his knees buckled.

He hit the dirt facedown, the brand clutched in his hand. A man’s voice slid into his ears.

“You shouldn’t have come back. You don’t belong here anymore.”

But he did.

This was his home.

His family.

His.

And he wasn’t letting go of it without a fight.

He clutched the brand tighter and then everything went black.

Chapter One

Texas, Present Day

HE HADN’T HAD SEX IN forty-eight hours.

While two days of deprivation was nothing for most men, Cody Braddock wasn’t the average guy. He was a hell-raising, adrenaline-loving, nine-time Professional Bull Riders champion—known to the world as Cody “Balls to the Wall” Boyd—just weeks away from record-breaking buckle number ten.

He was also a vampire who fed off of blood and sex.

Cody was desperate for both as he walked into the crowded Sixth Street bar in the heart of Austin, Texas.

A Nickelback song blasted from the loudspeakers and vibrated the walls. A splatter of colored lights bounced off the sea of writhing bodies that filled the small dance floor. The air reeked of beer and stale cigarette smoke.

It was the kind of place people came to drown their troubles and forget. A bad day. A cheating spouse. An arrogant boss. A stack of unpaid bills.

A little liquid courage, a lot of sex, and all would be right with the world. Or so they thought.

He read that much in their gazes, and what he couldn’t see when he made direct eye contact, he felt.

Lust and desperation swirled into a nearly irresistible aphrodisiac that filled his nostrils and lured him deeper inside the club. Body heat pushed and pulled at him from every angle. Dozens of heartbeats mingled together in a steady ba-bom ba-bom that echoed in his head and throbbed through his body. A strange awareness crawled up his spine and he glanced to the right.

His gaze collided with a pair of deep, unreadable brown eyes and he quickly realized he wasn’t the only one looking for a little action tonight.

He didn’t know the guy’s name or anything about him. He only knew that the young gun wasn’t human and that he’d come to feed. A long time ago, Cody would have been surprised at running into another vampire. They’d been few and far between back when Cody had been turned.

But now…

There were more. They existed side-by-side with humans, feeding on them when the need arose and tossing them when they were finished. They were the ultimate predators. Alluring. Persuasive. Powerful. Invincible. Deadly. The moral barometer had slipped away right along with the humanity. Forgotten like a bad day.

For most.

But Cody refused to forget.

He still remembered the last beat of his heart. The last draw of breath. The last flutter of life. The memories haunted him, driving him almost as fiercely as the hunger. To find the vampire who’d slaughtered his family that fateful night and destroy him once and for all.

Cody still had several miles to go before he reached his destination—a small town north of San Antonio, Texas. But he was a hell of a lot closer than he’d been when he’d first seen the copy of Motorcycle Mania featuring the trio behind Skull Creek Choppers, the fastest growing custom motorcycle manufacturer in the south.

One glance at the picture and he’d been pulled back to the moment when his life had changed forever. When he’d changed. In a fiery blaze, he’d lost everything that mattered to him—his mother, his sister-in-law, his nephew, his brothers, his home.

Not that Brent, Travis and Colton were dead like the others. His brothers had suffered a fate far worse than a mortal death—they’d been turned just as Cody had. They lived in isolation now, feeding off blood and sex, doomed to an eternity of hunger. One eaten up by guilt, one driven by anger, one so indifferent he didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything.

And Garret Sawyer, the creative genius behind SCC, was the vampire responsible.

Cody could still remember the pain in his skull, the blackness. When he’d regained consciousness, it had been Sawyer who’d loomed over him, his fangs bared, his face and clothes covered in soot and blood. He’d held a knife in his hand.

The same knife he’d used to kill Cody’s mother.

Cody’s oldest brother Colton had seen Sawyer, as well. The same face. The blood. The knife.

It was Sawyer, all right. It had to be.

And Cody intended to make him pay for what he’d done. Maybe then the what-ifs would stop once and for all.

What if he hadn’t left his brothers to head for town?

What if he’d ridden in a minute sooner?

What if he’d been there?

Cody forced aside the endless questions and concentrated on the task at hand—feeding and gathering his strength.

He shifted his attention back to the younger vampire. He gave a quick nod. The vamp replied in kind before turning back to the woman next to him. He smiled and the brunette practically swooned. A split second later, he steered her toward the rear exit.

Cody’s gut tightened and his mouth watered, and anxiety rushed through him. His shoulder cried, reminding him of yesterday’s practice ride on an ornery bull named Mabel prior to picking up the Motorcycle Mania issue. While vampires weren’t susceptible to mortal injuries, they still felt pain. More so than the average human thanks to heightened senses. Translation—when he hurt, he friggin’ hurt.

Not for long though.

He stared through the dim interior and met a pair of deep blue eyes rimmed in a quarter inch of black eyeliner.

Her name was Laura and this was the first time she and her new boyfriend had gone out on the town as a couple. She loved the guy who stood next to her with his arm around her waist, but she wished he wouldn’t act so damned possessive. It wasn’t like she was going to ditch him. Although she might consider it if the hot-looking cowboy staring at her gave the slightest indication that he had the same thing in mind.

The arm tightened around her waist and Cody shifted his gaze to her companion. His name was Mark and he worked on a road crew. He didn’t like men looking at his woman and he sure as hell didn’t like his woman looking at any men.

Cody tipped his hat and shifted his gaze elsewhere. There were too many available women to get himself stuck in a love triangle. Especially when he wasn’t looking for love, or anything close. Not that such a thing existed. He’d been around over one hundred and fifty years and never in all that time had he seen anything close to such an emotion. Like? Yes. Lust? Hell, yes. But one man/one woman, to have and to hold, ‘til death do us part love?

It just didn’t exist. Not for a vampire like Cody, or the man he’d once been.

A man just like his father.

He ignored the thought. It didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered to him was sustenance.

Strength.

Sex.

His attention shifted to one of the bar maids loading her tray with longnecks. As if she sensed his attention, her gaze snapped to his and all of her secrets whispered through his head. Her name was Jenna. Her husband neglected her and so she’d started wearing her shorts shorter and her T-shirts tighter. She mainly flirted for bigger tips, but she’d been known to sleep with one or two if the chemistry—or the money—was right.

Ditto for number one.

She smiled and he tipped his hat.

And then he turned away because Cody had a strict Hell no! policy when it came to married women. They rated right up there with the innocent, naive types because, inevitably, they wanted more from him than a few hours of bliss.

They wanted a real relationship, and he wasn’t in any position to stick around and deliver. His survival depended on knowing when to cut and run. Sure, he was riding a high with his rodeo career right now, but the end was fast approaching. Especially with Benny James hot on his tail.

James was a reporter for No Bull, a fanzine type magazine about the rodeo circuit. He’d put in through Cody’s publicist for an interview several months ago, which Cody had declined. The reporter hadn’t taken the news too kindly and he’d made it his mission in life to get the dirt on PBR’s hottest star. He’d starting mentioning Cody in his monthly Who’s Who column, calling him the Lone Ranger and stirring as much speculation as possible. About Cody’s extremely private lifestyle. His uncanny athletic prowess. His high tolerance for pain.

Bull riding was a tough profession and there wasn’t a rider out there who didn’t wear the battle scars. Broken bones. Bruises. But not Cody. The only scar he had came from a case knife back during a particularly nasty raid on a Union general who’d been holding Confederate prisoners. He’d been a man then and vulnerable.

He was the ultimate riding machine now. Strong. Fearless. Invincible. Crazy.

Then again, he’d always been a little crazy. Impulsive. Wild. Not a good thing for a vampire desperate to keep a low profile.

James was onto him. While the man might not have figured out Cody’s true identity or his bloodsucking secret, he knew something was up.

And now, thanks to the column, so did everyone else.

The entire rodeo world was questioning how long the infamous Cody Boyd could keep going at such a brutal pace. It was just a matter of time before a vampire slayer picked up on the speculation and put the puzzle pieces together.

Cody had been trying his best to keep his impulses in check, but the effort had made little difference. He needed to quit the circuit completely. Go back to being just plain old Cody Braddock and working the horse ranches the way he’d done for the past one hundred years. He would, just as soon as Balls to the Wall Boyd broke the PBR record for the most consecutive championships. One more season, and it was his.

Until then…

His gaze shifted to the blonde standing near the corner of the L-shaped bar.

She had fast and fleeting written all over her. From the skimpy pink dress that outlined a pair of porn star breasts, to the hot pink cowboy boots that made her legs seem long and endless. Full, thick platinum hair framed her heart-shaped face and plunged past her shoulders. She had bright sparkling eyes as potent as a bottle of Jack Daniels fringed with thick black lashes. An extra layer of pink lipstick accented her lush mouth and stirred an image so evocative that his cock gave a quick salute.

A reaction that tightened every muscle in his body and set off his internal alarm.

A definite first because he’d never been the least bit interested in a woman’s mouth, no matter how attractive, or how experienced. Not when he’d been a man—young and wild and as horny as the day was long—and not now.

He didn’t waste his time with soft kisses or gentle touches. He took the lead in bed, stirring and provoking until his partner exploded and he drank in the vibrant energy of her climax.

Not that he didn’t try to get his O on every now and then, too. What red-blooded male—man or vampire—didn’t want to come? But Cody always found himself getting caught up in the woman’s big moment rather than his own, and once the beast was fed, he lost his enthusiasm. Which explained why he hadn’t had an actual orgasm with a woman since he’d opened his eyes as a vampire.

He enjoyed himself. He fed. But he never came.

He had no doubt now would be any different. Even if the lust burning up his veins felt hotter than it usually did. More potent.

His gut clenched and his dick ached. It was all he could do not to cross the room, bend her over the bar, pull up her dress and sink into her hot, lush body.

She looked more than appropriate for what he had in mind. But while her body said do me, her eyes told an altogether different story.

Her name was Miranda Rivers and she was way out of her element. She’d never worn her hot pink cowboy boots. Never been to a bar. Never picked up a stranger. She’d never even drank more than one margarita.

Until tonight.

She was working on her third and she wanted a man. And sex. She wanted to live out just one of her fantasies before she turned her back on all of them and continued down the straight and narrow path she’d been traveling her entire life.

This was her detour.

Her one chance to let her guard down and live out one of her many fantasies.

Perfect, right?

Wrong. While she had a body made for sex, she’d never had an actual orgasm with a man. That’s what tonight was all about. Since she hadn’t exploded with the few safe, boring men in her past, she’d decided to go for forbidden and exciting.

Problem solved.

Unless the problem wasn’t the men.

She was the common denominator. The one constant in each lukewarm encounter. What if she simply wasn’t capable of an orgasm?

Her gaze collided with his and he saw the instant spark of lust. A surprising reaction because he hadn’t sent any seductive thoughts her way. He hadn’t enticed or mesmerized, or anything. She was attracted to him of her own accord.

Heat rolled through his body like a swig of whiskey and sucker punched him right in the gut.

He stiffened. While she might be attracted to him, the last thing he needed was to waste his time on a what if. He needed to turn around and walk the other way no matter how lush her body or how full her mouth or how desperate he was to taste her.

He needed a sure thing.

He started to turn away. But then she smiled and his hunger stirred, and he couldn’t help himself.

Cody Braddock had been a slave to his impulses far too long to stop now.

Chapter Two

HE WAS THE SEXIEST COWBOY she’d ever seen.

Which said a lot because Miranda Rivers had become quite the expert over the years.

Thanks entirely to her mother—part-time B is for Beautiful independent makeup consultant and full-time buckle bunny—Miranda had witnessed hundreds of Stetsons bobbing through the front door of the single wide trailer where she’d grown up. A parade that had continued as her two older sisters had matured and carried on their mother’s weakness for men with tight Wranglers, starched shirts and a wild and reckless charm.

It was a weakness that had eventually killed Chastity Rivers.

She’d fallen too hard, too fast, for a man who’d rejected her. She’d been so devastated that she’d killed herself and left her daughters to finish raising themselves.

Miranda had been fourteen at the time.

Lucy and Robin had been older, sixteen and nineteen, but it had been Miranda who’d stepped up to take the lead in the family. She’d cleaned the house and cooked dinner while her sisters had strutted their stuff, stayed out all night and stirred up as much gossip as possible.

Time had changed little. Lucy worked at a nearby bar and partied away her earnings while Robin played groupie to a local country band.

They were still the baddest girls in town.

They always had been, and Miranda had been guilty by association.

The entire school had started calling her Restroom Randy back during her sophomore year. A nickname she’d been given when Ray McGuire—junior calf roper and the first cowboy to ever catch her eye—had started a running list on the boy’s bathroom wall of all the places Miranda Rivers had gotten down and dirty.

Restroom Randy’s Hottest Sex Spots.

All lies, of course. He’d been pissed because she’d turned him down in the backseat of his Daddy’s Chevy and he’d wanted to get back at her. He’d started the list, claiming they’d gone all the way not only in the Chevy, but in the front loader of his John Deere, the back alley behind the Piggly Wiggly, the gazebo in the middle of town square, the men’s restroom at the local drive-in, beneath the bleachers at the football stadium, smack dab in the middle of the local rodeo arena and the front porch of his family’s home.

Miranda had seen the list only once. She’d been sixteen and desperate to know why the entire school was snickering behind her back. A quick duck into the boy’s john and she’d found out. The various locations written in red marker had branded themselves into her brain. She’d been mortified and determined to lose the Restroom Randy image.

She’d hated being one of those girls. Trashy. No good. An outsider. She’d wanted to fit in. To feel accepted. To feel safe.

She’d never had any security growing up. Nothing that she could count on. Sometimes she’d had lunch at school. Sometimes she hadn’t. Sometimes her mother had been home at night. Sometimes she hadn’t. Sometimes she’d had her sisters to keep her company. Sometimes they’d been too busy to care. It had been a roller-coaster ride, and Miranda had wanted off.

She’d wanted a smooth, calm carousel tour and so she’d spent her time studying rather than socializing, determined to trade her unstable existence for something solid. She’d graduated at the top of her class and worked her way through college to earn a sociology degree.

She’d been the activities coordinator at the Skull Creek Senior Center for eight years now. A volunteer at the local library for six. She baked cookies for the ladies auxiliary once a month and chaired an annual fundraising committee for the local food bank. She did her best to steer clear of her sisters and surround herself with people she could count on—the old folks at the senior center and the few people around town who didn’t hold her past against her. Since Robin spent most of her time on the road and Lucy only showed up when she wanted money, keeping her distance was relatively easy. Even more, Miranda only dated the kind of men that a woman could count on—nice, conservative, professional types who didn’t know the first thing about roping a cow or riding a horse or getting down and dirty in a hayloft.

She’d finally found stability, but she was still missing one thing.

Acceptance.

It was close. Her boyfriend of three months had finally proposed to her via e-mail before he’d left yesterday for a seminar in Houston.

It hadn’t been the most exciting proposal, but then Greg wasn’t the most exciting guy. He wore khakis and white button-down shirts and, as owner of a local dry cleaning chain, spent his days neck-deep in spot cleaner and starch. He was practical. Nice. Safe.

He was also well-respected. His father had been the mayor once-upon-a-time and Greg himself served as president of the local chamber of commerce.

When Greg walked into the Piggly Wiggly, the female clerks didn’t stare daggers at him and the stock boys didn’t leer. When he waved at old Mr. Witherspoon, the man actually nodded instead of spitting a stream of tobacco juice at his shoe.

Miranda wanted the same acceptance. Or, at the very least, civility. Marrying Greg would give her that.

So why haven’t you given him an answer yet?

Because. It was a big step. One she didn’t feel comfortable taking via the Internet. She wanted to tell him in person. She would tell him. He was a good man from a good family and she was definitely marrying him. Even if he wasn’t that great in bed.

Sex wasn’t everything.

She knew that.

At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have an orgasm with an actual man rather than a battery-operated body part.

Buck was the heavy-duty vibrator she’d purchased for her twenty-first birthday. Instead of hitting the local honky tonk to celebrate—Lucy’s idea—she’d opted to stay home with a frozen pizza and a Bonanza marathon. A few episodes featuring Little Joe and she’d had her first case of horny.

Not that she’d inherited her mother’s crippling weakness for cowboys.

There was a big difference between an addiction and mild infatuation. Infatuation brought on by an extreme case of denial. She’d developed a No Cowboy policy early on and so it only made sense that she’d started fantasizing about the one thing she could never have. A tall, dark man in a Stetson. Touching her. Kissing her. Giving her a delicious, toe-curling orgasm. She’d wondered every now and then what it would feel like, a curiosity that had killed any and all chances of having a bonafide O with any of the men she’d dated. Three to be exact, including Greg.

They hadn’t been wild enough, or exciting enough, or cowboy enough.

No big deal. Miranda had wanted more than an orgasm. She’d wanted respect, and so she’d settled for Buck and her Bonanza DVDs.

Until last night.

The proposal had served as a wake-up call. A reminder that time was precious and it was slipping away fast. In two weeks, she would accept Greg’s offer and then they were getting married.

From this day forward.

‘Til death do us part.

It was now or never.

Which was why she’d abandoned her party planning for the annual Sock-Hop scheduled next week at the Senior Center, to pull out her hot pink boots—a high school graduation present from her oldest sister Robin—and make the long drive to Austin. For this one night, she was going to lose her inhibitions and be Restroom Randy.

Cowboy up!

Her gaze zeroed in on the jeans-clad legs striding toward her. Her attention took a slow walk up, over muscular thighs and an impressive crotch, a trim waist and solid torso, broad shoulders and a corded neck, to his face.

Several days’ growth of stubble shadowed his jaw and circled his sensuous mouth. A thin scar zig-zagged its way across one cheek, but it didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, it made him seem more rugged and sexy. Dark hair framed his face and brushed the collar of his shirt. Striking silver eyes fringed in thick black lashes peered at her from beneath the brim of his Stetson.

There was nothing respectable about the molten gleam in his gaze. Heat radiated off his body, pushing and pulling at her, luring her closer when every warning bell in her body clamored for her to turn and run. His lips crooked in the faintest grin that said he knew all of her secrets and he wanted her in spite of them.

Because of them.

Her nipples tightened and her legs quivered and she felt the wetness between her thighs.

He stopped a few inches away. His gaze stripped her bare and a ripple of awareness went up her spine. She’d felt naked back at home when she’d slipped on the skimpy clothes, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now.

Naked. Vulnerable. Hungry.

The last thought struck and a bolt of heat sizzled through her. The chemistry was more potent than anything she’d ever felt, but there was something more, as well. A strange connection that said the attraction went much deeper than the physical.

She stiffened against the ridiculous notion and ignored the endless questions swimming in her head.

What’s your name?

What do you do?

Where are you from?

Are you the real deal?

He was. He wore an air of danger and wildness as comfortably as he wore his form-fitting jeans.

“You can always tell by the boots,” her mother had said time and time again.

Her gaze dropped to the worn toes of a pair of black snakeskin Ropers. Scuffed. Dusty. Lived in. An electrical pulse vibrated along her nerve endings.

“I won them at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.”

Her gaze swiveled back up and collided with his. “Excuse me?”

“The boots. I took first place last year in Houston. They were part of the prize. The name’s Cody Braddock. I’m a bull rider.”

He was a bona fide cowboy, all right.

The last man she would ever take to the Senior Sock Hop. Or the weekly church picnic. Or the Veterans of Foreign Wars Bunko night. Or the Chamber of Commerce Christmas party. Or anything in the tiny town of Skull Creek where she’d spent the past ten years trying to outrun her Restroom Randy reputation.

Which made him the perfect man to take to bed right now.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” she blurted before she did something really stupid. Like ask him which bull he’d been riding and how long he’d been risking his neck and where he’d been all her life.

One orgasm, she reminded herself. Then the damned curiosity that kept her tossing and turning and fantasizing at night—every night—would be satisfied. She would say yes to Greg and abandon her legacy for good.

“That is, if you’re not married,” she added. “You aren’t married, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

His grin was slow and wicked and her heart stopped for the next few beats. “That’s not something that a man forgets, is it?”

“That depends on the man.”

His grin faded. “I’m not the marrying kind. Never have been, never will be.”

“How about the one-night-stand kind?”

“Is that what you’re after?”

“Actually, an hour or so should do it.”

His gaze seemed to liquefy, like silver melting and heating. “You don’t want me to buy you a drink first?”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” Her gaze caught and held his and she ignored the sizzle of apprehension that went through her. The small voice that whispered she was about to make a huge, huge mistake because one taste wouldn’t come close to satisfying her craving and killing her curiosity.

Instead, she focused on the heat simmering in her belly and the tightening between her legs. “So what about it? You interested in a little exercise?”

His mouth drew into a thin line and his brow furrowed, and she had the distinct impression that he was going to turn her down even though he’d been the one to approach her.

Disappointment rushed through her, followed by a burst of anxiety that fed her impatience. She hadn’t driven the two hours from Skull Creek to make sure she didn’t run into someone from home just to turn around and head back minus a real climax. She was on a mission. Now or never, a voice whispered.

Now.

Please.

The plea echoed through her head, but she managed to keep it to herself. She’d seen her mother beg and plead too many times the morning after, and every time, Mr. Cowboy had always walked away.

She wouldn’t subject herself to the same humiliation. If this particular cowboy didn’t want her, so be it. No way was she getting hung up on any one man. She would simply move on to the next one in line.

Maybe the guy sitting at the far end of the bar.

She’d scoped him out earlier when she’d first arrived, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. With polished gray boots, he looked more drugstore than the real deal. But at least he wore a Stetson, his jeans and shirt starched within an inch of their life. While he wasn’t her first choice, he would do—

“Let’s go.” Cody’s deep, husky voice shattered her thoughts and drew her attention. Her gaze collided with his and she had the distinct impression he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

And that he didn’t like it one little bit.

Before she could dwell on the crazy notion, his large hand cupped her elbow and steered her around. He had the oddest touch. His fingers weren’t hot like most men. But they weren’t clammy either. They felt…strong. Purposeful. Determined.

A zing of excitement spiraled through her. Her nipples throbbed. Her thighs shivered.

And then they headed for the nearest exit and what was sure to be the hottest, wildest, most dangerous experience of Miranda’s life.

Chapter Three

YEARS OF BULL RIDING had finally shaken some screws loose.

That was the only explanation for the fact that Cody had just accepted Miranda’s offer and told her his real name.

“The name’s Cody Braddock.”

Sweet Jesus. Was he completely nuts?

Hungry, he reminded himself. He was starved and so he wasn’t thinking straight. That explained why he was now leading Miranda outside, through the back parking lot toward his truck when his common sense screamed otherwise.

That, and he’d always been impulsive. A loose cannon. A wild card. That’s what made him so good on the back of a bull. He didn’t waste his time thinking. He simply acted.

No way did his sudden change of heart have anything to do with the fact that he wanted to keep her from propositioning any other man. Particularly the asshole at the end of the bar. The guy had a wife at home that he liked to use for a punching bag.

Not that Cody gave a rat’s ass if Miranda got mixed up with a character like that. Hell, he didn’t know her from Eve.

It was the hunger, all right.

It clouded his judgment as darkly as it shaded his past.

He tried to tune into the sounds around him. The music drifting from the row of clubs along Sixth Street. The footsteps up and down the nearby sidewalk. The whir of passing traffic and occasional bleep of a horn. But he found himself picking up only her. The steady beat of her heart and the faint in and out of her breaths and the excited flutter of her pulse.

“Stop.” Her soft voice pushed inside his head and he turned just as she dug her heels into the asphalt and pulled him to a stop.

“I thought you wanted to get out of here.” His gaze collided with hers and he read the doubt that rolled through her. Half of her wanted to turn and run. Before she did something she would surely regret.

At the same time, that’s what this moment was all about. Doing something completely and totally opposite of what she usually did. A few moments of fierce and naughty and memorable to see her through the years and years of nothing special that she knew waited in the future.

“Out of there.” Determination fired her gaze as she glanced around the parking lot. “Here is just fine.” And then she leaned up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his.

The sudden connection sent a jolt through him. His muscles stiffened and his groin throbbed and he quickly took the lead.

His hands slid around her waist and he pulled her flush against him. He plunged his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back to give himself better access.

She tasted like the sweetest wine and the most decadent sin and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to be inside of her, his cock deep between her legs, his mouth locked on hers.

He wanted it so badly that he nearly pushed her up against a nearby car, shoved her skirt up to her waist and took her right then and there. But she had something else cooked up in her fantasies—a small alley near the rear Exit door—and Cody was all about pleasing his partner.

Especially this one.

Before he could dwell on the outrageous thought, she rubbed her pelvis against his crotch and electricity zapped the head of his penis. The sensation sizzled through him and gripped every nerve ending until his entire body buzzed.

In the blink of an eye, he picked her up and headed for the narrow alley that ran between the club and a neighboring building.

Her eyes went suddenly wide a heartbeat later when she realized they were standing between the two buildings. “How did you move so fast—” she started, but he silenced her with his mouth.

His lips plundered hers, his tongue pushing deep to stroke and explore and leave her breathless. He pressed her up against the brick so that she could feel the pulse of the music from inside. The excitement. And then he leaned into her, his body flush against hers, so that she could feel his excitement.

Emotion rolled through her, a mix of wonder and fear and hurry the hell up.

“Anyone could walk by,” he murmured, feeding her impatience and the dangerous thrill of being caught.

That’s why she had no intention of following him back to his hotel room or taking him home with her. She wanted to live on the edge a little while before she plunged over. She needed it. She’d denied herself for so long and now she wanted to experience the forbidden just once.

The information glittered hot and bright in her gaze as she stared back at him for those next few seconds.

She was through relying on her imagination. She wanted to live up to her reputation. Right here. Right now. Despite the fact that she was hours from home with a man she didn’t know.

Because of it.

She didn’t want any strings any more than he did.

The truth bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have and Cody stiffened.

He ignored the strange tightening in his chest and focused on the only thing that mattered—pleasuring her. It was her pleasure—her climax—that would feed the beast inside of him.

He caught the neckline of her skimpy top and pushed it down to her waist. Her luscious breasts spilled free. Dipping his head, he caught one rosy nipple between his teeth. He flicked the tip with his tongue before opening his mouth wider. He drew her in and sucked until a moan vibrated up her throat. The sound fed the lust roaring in his veins.

He knew even before he caught the hem of her skirt and felt the bare skin beneath that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Pressing one hard thigh between her legs, he forced her wider until she rode him. Her sweet heat rasped against his starched denim.

She gasped and a shudder ripped through her. He leaned back to see her trembling lips and her quivering breasts.

Shock and surprise swam in her smoky gaze. She’d had sex before, but nothing had ever felt like this. So intense and thrilling and ahhhhh…

Her pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat, teasing and taunting him. A slow hiss slid past his lips.

He shifted, moving and rubbing, working her until he felt her dampness through the rough fabric of his jeans. The scent of her arousal teased his nostrils and drenched his senses.

He caught her lips in a fierce kiss and plunged his hand between her legs. She was warm and wet and swollen. At the first touch of his fingers, she went ramrod stiff. A small cry ripped past her lips and just like that, she came apart in his arms.

A sizzling heat pulsed through her body and entered him at every point of contact—his hand between her legs, his mouth on hers, his thigh pressed intimately between hers. He drank in the sweet energy, relished the dizzying rush of life.

But it wasn’t enough because he wasn’t hilt deep inside of her.

Yet.

He drank in the picture she made, her head thrown back against the building, her eyes closed, her lips parted and trembling. She grasped at his shoulders as the convulsions ripped through her, feeding him yet making him all the more hungry at the same time.

His vision clouded, going from Technicolor to a bright, vivid purple that washed everything. The pale color of her hair and the smooth column of her throat. Her translucent breasts. The clothes riding her waist.

He fought the growl vibrating up his throat and the sharp graze of his teeth against his tongue. If he bit her, there would be no turning his back or leaving her behind. The connection would be forged.

Strong.

Resilient.

Unbreakable.

“More,” she gasped, her eyelids fluttering open.

Before she could focus and see the beast that he knew gleamed in his eyes, he whirled her around and urged her hands flat against the brick.

Her sweet, round ass pushed back against him and he flicked open the button on his jeans. The zipper wasn’t nearly as cooperative. Metal strained and popped and the teeth broke. The denim sagged on his hips and he shoved his underwear down so fast that the material ripped. His erection sprang forward, hard and greedy. The ripe head of his cock pressed the slick folds between her legs and she shuddered.

“Wait,” Miranda managed, the feel of him poised and ready like a lightning bolt to her sanity. She drew a deep breath to steady her rapid heartbeat and remember that while she’d made up her mind to let go of her inhibitions and satisfy her curiosity, she wasn’t kissing caution goodbye.

Her mother had made that mistake.

Three times to be exact.

“We need a condom,” she breathed. “I—I brought some with me.” She motioned to her purse which lay on the ground near her feet. “In there.”

“I’ve got my own, sugar.”

Of course he did. This might be her first time doing something like this, but it obviously wasn’t his.

The realization stirred a strange sense of regret. One that quickly drowned in a wave of heat as he retrieved a small packet, ripped it open and worked the latex down his engorged length. She felt the brush of knuckles against her backside as he positioned himself. His thick head nudged apart her slick folds and pressed into her.

She closed her eyes and relished the feel of him pushing inside, stretching and filling her inch by decadent inch.

Slowly.

Slowly.

There.

He stopped, buried completely for a long moment, the pressure so sharp and sweet that her breath caught. Her heart paused. He throbbed and her body contracted. A wave of impatience went through her, making her nipples ache and her legs tremble.

She moved then, arching her back and sucking him deeper, begging for more of the ecstasy she’d tasted only moments before. She was almost there. So close that she could feel the heat licking at her skin.

The hard brick vibrated against her fingertips, a reminder that she wasn’t just out of her comfort zone when it came to men, but she was far, far away from the safety of her bedroom. The notion fed her anticipation as much as the sounds drifting from inside the club. The music and the laughter and the voices…

A woman’s voice. Clear. Distinct. Close.

“I thought you wanted to go to my place?”

Miranda felt Cody’s muscles tense. Her eyes popped open and her head snapped up in time to see the couple that stumbled around the corner of the building a good twenty feet away.

“Screw that,” the man murmured. “Let’s just do it right here in the alley.” He pressed the woman up against the brick. A trash can flanked them and blocked Miranda’s view.

But she could still hear them, which meant they could still hear her. And all they had to do was glance up.

Uh-oh.

Chapter Four

MIRANDA TRIED TO REACH for her tank top which rode her waist, but Cody’s hands covered hers, flattening them against the wall as he pressed his body against hers. “Don’t move,” he breathed.

“Are you kidding me?” she whispered. “What if they see us?”

“What if they do?” His lips grazed her ear as the other couple groped each other. Their laughter drifted above the muted thud of the popular Katy Perry song blasting inside the club. “Would it be so bad to have an audience?”

Yes. That’s what she wanted to say. She’d spent far too many years doing the right thing and saying the right thing to stop now. She didn’t do things like this. No back alleys. No audience.

At the same time, that was the point entirely.

She didn’t do things like this, with a man like this, which was why she’d never had an orgasm during the actual act.

That was all about to change.

“Don’t think about them,” he murmured. “Close your eyes and think about me.” He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and added, “About my cock thick and hot inside of you.”

One hand slid up her abdomen to her breast and he caught her nipple, and she did just that.

She closed her eyes and her senses zeroed in on him. The way he pinched the ripe tip of her nipple and played her until need sizzled up and down her spine. A gasp parted her lips.

“You’d better watch it or they’ll hear you. Then they’ll notice us for sure.” He slid his left arm around her, his fingers skimming her rib cage as he caught her other nipple. Now both hands plucked and rolled the sensitive tips until her knees went weak.

He squeezed at the same moment that he thrust into her and a cry curled up her throat. She caught it before it slipped past her lips and clamped her mouth shut as he started to move.

In and out. Back and forth.

She quickly forgot all about the couple, their voices fading in the clamor of her own desire.

She arched against Cody, drawing him deeper, holding him longer when he tried to pull away.

The pressure between her legs stretched tighter and then poppppp! Sensation drenched her and she exploded around him. Her head fell back into the curve of his neck, her lips parted and she couldn’t help herself then. She cried out.

He caught the sound with his mouth as he moved faster, plunging harder, deeper, stronger. Convulsions gripped her. She milked him, her slick folds clenching around his throbbing penis until a growl sizzled across her nerve endings.

Wait a second. A growl?

The realization pushed through the lusty fog and zapped her back to the present. The cool brick wall and the muted music. Her ears perked, but she heard only the sound of her own breathing.

Duh.

She’d obviously deprived herself for so long that when she’d finally gone for the gusto—that is, a forbidden cowboy—the rush of sensation had been like a cattle prod to an electrical box. Her brain was fried.

He buried himself one last time and leaned into her. His body flattened hers against the brick wall. The rough slab rasped her overly sensitive nipples and desire speared her again. Every nerve in her body sizzled. She closed her eyes, relishing the aftershocks of her release which swept through her and filled up the emptiness inside.

Thank you.

The words whispered through her head and she caught them just before they spilled past her lips. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she’d been desperate.

Why not?

Desperate was good. Desperate meant she wasn’t half as experienced as her mother and sisters. Desperate meant that Miranda Rivers was every bit the good girl she’d been pretending to be over the years.

Not that she’d ever had a doubt. She was nothing like her mother or her sisters. She wasn’t a slave to her lust and she certainly didn’t share their addiction to cowboys.

This was a one-time thing only.

She ignored the regret that whispered through her, clamped her eyes shut and simply enjoyed the sensation still rippling through her body.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her ear after a long, heart-pounding moment, his words echoing her thoughts.

He pulled away and the sudden breeze against her bare skin sent a shiver through her. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d practically read her mind.

“They’re gone.” His voice whispered through her head, distracting her from the crazy notion.

“That’s a—” relief died on her lips as she turned to find the alley empty.

Really empty. Not only had the groping couple disappeared, but her tall, dark and luscious cowboy had already cut and run, too.

And she hadn’t heard a thing.

No rustle of denim as he’d fastened his pants. No slap of boots against the pavement. No lame excuse to get away without asking for her phone number.

Nothing. As if he’d vanished into thin air.

Or back into the building.

The rear exit was the closest doorway. Chances were he’d made a hasty retreat back inside for another drink. Another woman.

So?

It wasn’t as if she expected anything more from him than the past few moments.

He was a cowboy, for heaven’s sake. Definitely the last man she’d pin her expectations on.

This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Her moment of indulgence. A chance to stop fantasizing and experience the real thing with a real man before she pledged herself to the right man.

She drew a breath, ignored the disappointment that whispered through her and gathered up her purse. It was over. Done with. Mission accomplished. Time to go home, forget her stupid fantasies and get on with her life.

She blinked against the sudden tears that burned the backs of her eyes as she headed for the back parking lot and her car.

HE’D ERUPTED LIKE A fucking volcano.

The truth followed Cody as he inched past a couple feeling each other up in the back hallway of the club and pushed through the doorway leading to the men’s room.

His nostrils flared and his gut ached. The scent of warm cherries and sweet sex clung to him. His dick still throbbed and the craziest sense of satisfaction bubbled through him.

An orgasm. He’d had an actual orgasm.

He flipped on the faucet and shoved his hands beneath the cold water. A few punches of the soap dispenser and he lathered up, desperate to erase the scent, the feel.

Her.

Because he didn’t want her. She could be any woman. Every woman.

So why had he come this time and not the countless times before?

The question struck and he scrubbed harder. Deprivation, he reminded himself. Forty-eight sexless hours. That was enough to make any vampire a little wacky. He hit the dispenser again and lathered up some more. The less she lingered on his skin, the easier it would be to forget. Her gasp of surprise. Her heartfelt gratitude. Her delicious body which had fit him so perfectly, as if she’d been made for him and only him. His unexpected release.

It had been a helluva long time since he’d reacted that way with any woman.

Try never.

At least not since he’d turned vampire.

The truth weighed down on him as he rinsed his hands.

It was a fluke. The right time. Right place.

The right woman.

He ignored the last thought and ducked his head to splash some of the cool liquid onto his face. He caught his dripping reflection in the mirror. Bright purple rimmed the edges of his pupils. His hands tightened on the sink and the color shimmered hotter, brighter.

As satisfied as he felt, he was still hungry. He needed another woman. Now.

Raking a hand through his hair, he grabbed a paper towel, wiped his hands and then headed back out to the bar.

Maybe then he could get the sound of her breathing out of his head. The disappointment that followed her to the car. The fear—

His thoughts careened to a halt as a surge of emotion went through him. In a split second, he saw Miranda standing in the back parking lot. He smelled her terror and felt her surprise as her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding near her.

And for the first time since he’d opened his eyes as a vampire, Cody Braddock was scared shitless.

“PLEASE,” CAME THE CHOKED gurgle.

Miranda’s gaze pushed through the darkness to the two shadows wedged between a pair of parked cars. Shock and disbelief whirled through her. A reaction that had nothing to do with the woman who sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from her throat, and everything to do with the man leaning over her, lapping at the crimson heat.

The man’s head lifted and his furious red gaze collided with Miranda’s. His lips pulled back. Blood drip-dropped from a pair of lethal looking fangs. A growl bubbled past his lips and sizzled through the air.

Miranda blinked, but he was still there.

Still a…

No.

Denial rushed through her, followed by a quick burst of raw terror. While there had to be an explanation—no way was this guy a real bloodsucker—he was still dangerous. Murderous.

He took a step toward her and she stumbled away from him. She turned and urged her feet to move.

In a heartbeat, he caught her by the hair and yanked her backward. Her legs went out from under her and she landed flat on her back between the two cars. Her head slammed against the pavement. Pain exploded in her skull and blurred her vision. Not enough, however, to obliterate the man’s vicious red glare as he loomed over her.

“Well, lookee here. A two-for-one special.” He smiled, revealing his blood-stained teeth which matched the crimson of his eyes. “I’ll definitely be shopping here again.”

A nightmare. The thought struck and she grasped at it, holding tight. None of this was real. Not the choked gurgles of the woman nearby. Or the vicious vampire leaning over her.

None of it.

But then he hissed, his fangs grew sharper and longer, and Miranda braced herself for a very real death.

Chapter Five

CODY REACHED THE YOUNG MALE vamp just as he was about to sink his fangs into Miranda’s neck.

“She’s mine,” he growled. He caught the vampire’s shoulder and the man’s head snapped up. Blood trickled from the prick points on Miranda’s neck, but it didn’t gush. The vampire hadn’t bit deep enough to hit the artery and claim her as his own.

Yet.

The notion bothered him a helluva lot more than it should have considering he wasn’t the least bit interested in keeping Miranda for himself. Even if she had been one of the best lays he’d had in a long, long time.

Cody shifted his attention to the woman sprawled on the pavement nearby. Her chest rose and fell and tears streamed down her cheeks. The bite marks at her neck pumped blood out onto the pavement. She wasn’t dead. Yet. “Haven’t you had enough?” he asked the young vampire.

A smile twisted his lips. “There’s no such thing.”

Damn straight. Cody had just had incredible sex, yet his insides still tightened and clenched. His nostrils flared with the decadent scent of blood. His dick throbbed with the memory of Miranda surrounding him, making him come.

He braced himself and eyed the younger vampire who held her in front of him like a shield. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Not your age. How long have you been a vampire?”

The red glint in his eyes cooled just a little and impatience flashed. “Eight months. What does that have to do with anything?”

“The fact that you don’t know shows just how disadvantaged you are right now. I’ve got years on you and a century more experience.” His gaze dropped to Miranda. Her eyes were wide open, pure fear swimming in their depths. The urge to protect her surged through him and shook him to the core. “You’ve had your fun tonight. Back off.”

“Or else?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Cody flashed his own fangs and the vampire hissed.

Shit.

The last thing he wanted was to get into a pissing contest with a wet-behind-the-ears fledgling. They could be unpredictable, which made the situation far more dangerous than usual.

The vamp tightened his hold on Miranda and Cody stepped forward, his fangs bared, his fury this close to simmering over.

“Fine.” The vampire thrust her forward. “She’s yours.”

Cody caught Miranda and tucked her safely behind him.

Meanwhile, the young vamp turned his attention back to his first victim. “I’ve got my own.”

“No,” Miranda breathed, but her protest did little to stop the hungry vampire.

It was Cody’s hand that caught him by the shoulder and brought him up short. “You won’t make it another eight months if you keep being this stupid. All a vampire killer has to do is follow your trail of dead bodies and that’ll be the end of you.” Cody focused on the girl who lay sprawled in a fast-growing pool of her own blood. He could hear the faint beat of her heart and the slow draw of breath. She wasn’t dead, but she was close. “You took too much blood. She’ll live, but only if she gets medical attention right away.” He spared the vampire a glance. “Take her to the hospital.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

Cody tightened his hold on the vampire. “Take her to the hospital,” he bit out. “Or you won’t have to wait for the vampire killers to find you. I’ll end your miserable existence myself.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” The young vamp eyed him defiantly, but Cody didn’t miss the flash of fear in the younger man’s eyes. A few seconds ticked by and he seemed to deflate. “What the hell am I supposed to tell them?”

“You take her to the E.R., tell the front desk that you found her like this on the side of the road and then disappear. Don’t give any names or locations. Just drop her off and leave.”

The vamp nodded and scooped up the girl.

Cody watched the blur of shadows disappear before he turned toward Miranda. Her entire body shook and her lips trembled as she stared at the far end of the paved lot where the vamp had disappeared with the dying woman. A strange wave of possessiveness went through him and he stiffened.

“Miranda?”

At the sound of her name, her head snapped up and her gaze met his. Relief flashed before she seemed to remember what had just transpired and exactly what she’d seen.

The blood.

The fangs.

The truth.

“You.” She stumbled backward, ramming her knee against a nearby car as she turned.

And then she bolted for her life.

GO, GO, GO, GO, GO, GO, GO!

The command echoed in Miranda’s head as she dove behind the wheel, slammed and locked her car door and shoved the key in the ignition.

Panic zipped up and down her spine and her heart pounded so hard she thought it was going to burst out of her chest.

No, she told herself. No, no, no, no, no.

Vampires didn’t exist.

But cold-blooded, psychotic killers did and that’s who she’d stumbled upon. Maybe the guy had been drinking the woman’s blood. But he was probably just some sick crazy. Or a cult member. Or a poor schmuck obsessed with the undead. That didn’t make him an eight-month-old vampire.

It was the shock. She’d freaked at the sight of all that blood and so she’d imagined things. Like the growling and the fangs and the bloodred eyes.

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