Acclaim for the authors of Holiday with a Vampire

MAUREEN CHILD

“Maureen Child is one of the stars in the ascendant… poised for the next big step.”

—Publishers Weekly “Child excellently unravels the mystery… without slowing the momentum of the love story… It’s very easy to fall in love with this heroic and sexy couple.” —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Nevermore

CARIDAD PIÑEIRO

“Anne Rice, move over. This Cuban-American writer sucks up to the ‘vampire romance’ genre with a Latin vengeance…”

—Latina Magazine on Darkness Calls

“Once again the audience will believe that vampires exist… In an incredibly short time, Caridad Piñeiro is proving to be one of the sub-genre’s best writers.”

—The Best Reviews on Danger Calls

Holiday With A Vampire

By

Maureen Child & Caridad Piñeiro

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Maureen Child is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than ninety novels, including historicals, paranormal historicals, contemporary romances and series romances. her books have won numerous awards, including a Prism and an Award of excellence. She’s a three-time RITA® Award nominee.

Maureen lives in Southern California’s OC, with her pretty cool husband, two kids and the still-entertaining ghost of her golden retriever, Abbey. visit Maureen Child online at www.maureenchild.com

Caridad Piñeiro was born in havana, Cuba, and settled in the new York metropolitan area. Caridad’s novels have been nominated for various readers’ and reviewers’ choice awards, including the Affaire de Coeur. Danger Calls was a 2005 Top 5 Read from Catalina magazine and the first book selected for Catalina’s cyber book club.

When not writing, Caridad is a mum, wife and lawyer. For more information on Caridad’s books, contests and appearances, or to contact Caridad, please visit www.caridad.com.

Christmas Cravings

By

Maureen Child

With love to my mum, Sallye Carberry, for always reading, catching my typos and being the best mum ever!

Chapter 1

Grayson Stone felt the dawn coming and knew he couldn’t escape it.

He stirred in the snow, his body splayed in the center of a neatly tended yard, and wondered for a second where the hell he was. Then he remembered. A vague echo of a memory danced through his dazed mind. He’d come back to Whisper, Wyoming, as he had every year since his death.

It was the week before Christmas and he’d come here to hide away. To forget. To remember. To lose himself in the serene quiet of what was still a wilderness.

He blinked and focused his eyes on a nearby bush—carefully pruned into the shape of a lopsided elephant—and told himself that the wilderness had done some changing.

But what did it matter? The pounding ache in his head, the lethargy of his body, the creeping sluggishness moving through his system incrementally told him that he didn’t have enough time to think these questions through, anyway. He shifted his gaze to the lightening sky. Already, that broad, sweeping expanse was a faint shade of lavender, heralding the coming sun. And while he watched the day begin, he thought about just how long it had been since the last time he’d seen a sunrise.

One hundred and fifty years.

Times had been so different then. Hell, he had been different, then. Alive, for one. And not in danger of combusting in the first rays of dawn.

“Ironic or poetic that I should die here again?” he whispered, just to hear a sound other than the soft sigh of the wind through the bushes. He’d spent most of his undead life far from Wyoming and the memories that haunted this place. And yet, it seemed that Fate had a sense of humor. He’d come home to die a second time.

His skin prickled with the coming of the sun. It felt as though every nerve ending in his body was suddenly electrically charged. He’d seen so much over the years. Done so much. He frowned at that stray thought, then let it go. He was what he was. Too late now to regret the past. And far too late to beg forgiveness of a God who’d written him off a century before. But there would probably be a welcome party in Hell just for him. Grayson closed his eyes, smiled a little and waited for the flash of fire that would consume him.

“Are you all right?” A soft voice, definitely female, filled with concern and just a little fear.

He didn’t have to hear her fright. He could smell it. Taste it. Opening his eyes again, though it took a Herculean effort, Grayson stared up at a woman, backlit by the growing light.

She smiled, shook her head until her short brown cap of curls danced and answered her own question. “Of course you’re not all right. You’re lying in the snow, probably half-frozen and your head’s bleeding. Not a good sign at all.”

His head was bleeding? Explained the pounding in his skull, but damned if Grayson could remember what had happened to him.

Her scent flavored the air around her. Soap and shampoo and something that was inherently her.

“Well, I can’t just leave you lying out here in the snow.” She stood, and looked around, as if hoping help would appear. When nothing happened, she glanced back at him and said, “I can get you out of the cold, but no way can I lift you. I probably shouldn’t move you at all, but you’ll freeze to death here, right?”

She nodded, convinced by her own argument. She glanced around the empty yard, then back to him. “The barn’s closer. We’ll go there, then figure out how to get you into the house. I can’t leave you out here. And don’t worry. I’m stronger than I look. I’m pretty sure I can drag you there.”

Drag him? He glanced at her and with a single look took in her short, curvy figure. Dressed in a heavy sweater, blue jeans and boots that came almost to her knees, she was a slight woman, nowhere near muscular enough to drag him anywhere.

But she stalwartly grabbed his hands in hers. “Wow, you’ve been out here a long time. Your hands are like ice.”

“Don’t,” he said, pushing that single word past lips that felt wooden, stiff with both the cold and the coming dawn. He didn’t want her help. Didn’t want to owe her anything. Safer for her if she just stayed away from him. He was a lost cause, anyway.

“You’re right.” She dropped his hands, and bent down in the snow beside him. “Look, I’ll never be able to drag you. But I could probably help you walk, if you’ve got it in you. Just lean on me and we’ll get you out of the cold.”

She pulled him into a sitting position and Grayson, understanding that she was clearly not going to give up on helping him, called on every last ounce of his remaining strength. His body was tired. Fatigue seeped into every cell and bled into his veins.

The dawn crept nearer and every minute that passed brought him closer to oblivion. He’d thought, only moments ago, that he was ready to face it. That he welcomed the end. Now though, he felt the same will to survive that had trapped him in this particular hell a hundred and fifty years ago.

He leaned heavily on the woman and her scent teased him—surrounded him. He heard the rush of blood through her body and the fast gallop of her heart and everything within him hungered. Raw, desperate need formed a knot in his throat and Grayson choked on it.

His hand tightened on her shoulder and he steeled himself against the hunger that clamored to be eased. It had been a long time since he’d fed from a living human being. But damned if she wasn’t a tempting morsel.

“Just a little farther,” she said.

The sun was coming.

He stumbled and her arm around his waist constricted as she took more of his leaden weight. “Keep going,” she said, her voice a whisper now, strained with effort. “Almost there.”

Why did she care? What made her go out of her way for a strange man? Shouldn’t she have been more concerned for her own safety rather than his? If she’d been smart, she would have called the police when she first spotted him. Although, if she had, he would have been no more than a pile of smoking ash by the time they arrived.

One more step. And another. He forced his legs to move. Forced himself to survive. Again. Why? Instinct, he guessed. Had to be. Even his kind fought for another day at life—such as it was.

He felt the skin on the back of his right hand sizzle. He glanced down and saw the slight twist of smoke lifting from his flesh as the first, barest hint of sunlight touched him. Grayson clenched his teeth against the searing pain and told himself it was no more than he deserved.

“Something’s burning,” she said, never slowing, never stopping. “Close by.”

Yes. Closer than she thought.

He slumped against her as the sizzle and heat began on his cheek now. Exposed flesh, too long denied the sun, went up as kindling and Grayson knew he was only moments from being engulfed. And if the flames took him while she was wrapped around him, this Good Samaritan would die along with him.

He couldn’t have that.

He’d done damage enough in his too long life already.

Pushing free of her, he staggered forward.

“What’re you doing?” She tried to grab him again, but he lurched ahead, aimed at the open barn door.

“Stay back.” Two words, delivered as an order not to be ignored. Then he lunged for the cool shadows within the barn and toppled into them once past the threshold.

Instantly, relief poured over him like the cool kiss of ice. The darkness swallowed him, and Grayson felt his body begin to heal, begin to awaken now that the morning light had been beaten back. He stirred, scraping his right hand on the rough wooden planks beneath him, and hissed in a breath as the rawness of his flesh erupted with pain. He cradled that hand in his other one and half turned to look at the woman standing in a slice of growing daylight. He squinted at her, made sure he was completely in the shadows, then said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t come any closer and Grayson wondered if she were already regretting her good deed for the day.

Bracing her feet, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, tipped her head to one side and said softly, “Now, why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

“I’d like to know the same thing,” he said, rather than answering her question. “I thought no one lived here.”

“No one did until a few months ago,” she said. “Now I do, and I still want to know why you’re here.”

Wincing a bit, he sat up and moved to one side, where he could brace his back against one of the stalls lining the old barn. In a split second, he took in the whole structure, noting that the barn was empty but for a minivan, a riding lawnmower—and, wouldn’t you know it, there were a few slivers of growing daylight slanting through the gaps in the roof shingles. He nearly hissed at the sight, but managed to contain himself. When he looked back at her, he could see more than concern on her features. Her deep blue eyes were worried. Almost haunted.

He knew what that felt like and in spite of the situation, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I used to live here,” he said.

“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced. “Because when I bought the place several months ago, it was in good shape, but still looked as though no one had lived here in forever.”

True enough. But he’d come here every year at Christmas. To be alone. Clearly, his business manager had decided to sell the old place and hadn’t even thought to tell Grayson about it. The man deserved to be staked for this.

“It was a long time ago.”

“Uh-huh.” Still not convinced. “So why’re you here now?”

He fingered the back of his head, pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped, though there was a knot there to remind him of how he’d come to be lying in the open. And now that the sun was no longer a threat, his memories of the night before got clearer.

“I got here last night. Saw the lights and was going to leave.” He’d been pretty pissed off about it, too. He’d decided to spend the night in a nearby cave, but before he could leave, he’d sensed something in the woods. Not a vampire. But someone, watching the house.

When whoever it was had left, Grayson let them go. Vampires weren’t big on playing the hero, after all. But then…“Someone hit me over the head. Next thing I knew, you were standing over me.”

Her eyes went wide and frightened. “Did you see who it was?”

“No.” Irritating as hell to admit that. His extraordinary senses should have warned him that he wasn’t alone. But he’d been so damned surprised to find his home occupied that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to the rest of his surroundings.

Tessa Franklin shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Frightening enough to find a nearly unconscious man in her front yard at the crack of dawn. But knowing that someone else had been sneaking around her house in the middle of the night was downright terrifying. What if he’d found her? What if he was watching her right now?

She hunched her shoulders against unseen eyes and fought for the calm she’d worked so hard to find. Pushing her fears back, she raked her gaze over her unexpected guest. A tall man, he was thin, but she’d felt the strength in him as he’d leaned on her moments ago. He wore black jeans, worn boots, a gray sweater and a short, black leather coat. His features were sharp, as if carved from stone with an ax. His eyes were dark, like his hair, his nose was long and narrow and his mouth was thinned into a grim slash.

Even injured, he carried an air of power that was nearly intoxicating—even to a woman who knew better than to trust a handsome man.

Still, if she were to guide her life by past mistakes, then she would have nothing. She had to move forward. Had to trust herself, or she would never be free.

Tessa looked into his deep brown eyes and said, “Look, you’re hurt. So you can stay here for a while, if you want.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “You make a habit of inviting strangers into your home, do you?”

“Actually, yes,” she said, forcing a brave smile she didn’t quite feel. “I do. I run a B and B here. I’ve got one guest now and another arriving tomorrow, but I do have one more empty bedroom, if you need it.”

He scowled at her. “I’m fine here.”

“In the barn.”

“Yes.”

Odd. But then what about this morning hadn’t been odd? “But you’re injured.”

“I’ll heal.”

She didn’t know whether to be pleased or not with the fact that he clearly didn’t want to come into her house. There was something about him that felt…dangerous. And Lord knew, she’d had more than her share of danger already in her life.

But she also saw something else in his eyes. An old pain that she responded to. How could she not recognize suffering in someone else? How could she not do everything she could to help?

“You can’t stay in the barn,” she said, deciding on the spot to insist on taking care of the man. She’d once needed help desperately and she was going to pass on that favor now. “You’ll freeze out here.”

“I won’t be staying.” He crossed his feet at the ankles and absently rubbed at the back of his right hand.

Tessa moved closer. “What happened to your hand? And your cheek?”

He blew out a breath. “I appreciate your help but I don’t need further assistance.”

“At least you could tell me your name,” she said.

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Grayson Stone.”

“I’m Tessa. Tessa Franklin.” She held her hand out toward him and waited patiently for him to take it.

When he finally did, and his skin met hers, Tessa felt a jolt of something she couldn’t identify pass between them. He felt it, too. She saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before he had the chance to disguise it. And somehow, it made her feel better to know that he was no happier about that flash than she was.

Moving farther back from her, he said, “I’ll rest here, then move on tonight.”

“Maybe that would be best after all,” she whispered, still feeling the hum of her skin where he’d touched her. Her body was awakening to sensations she’d blocked for five years. And the raw ache within threatened to bring her to her knees.

She stood up and backed away, as if distance from this mysterious man could make everything she’d felt drain away. It didn’t help. Shaken, she paused at the doorway, stood in the spear of sunlight and looked at him over her shoulder. Even in the shadows, the fire in his eyes burned hot. She felt the heat of him reaching for her and Tessa knew that Grayson Stone was more dangerous than she’d first believed.

Five years ago, she’d vowed to never give a man power over her again.

Up until this moment, she’d never doubted her ability to honor that vow.

Chapter 2

Tessa poured coffee into a thermos, gathered up a blanket and her first-aid kit, then carried it all back to the barn. Her one guest, Joe Baston, had spent the night in town, visiting his daughter. Joe hadn’t wanted to put his daughter out—so he’d taken a room at the inn and so she had no one to make breakfast for and nothing to do except care for the man in her barn.

“What are you thinking, Tessa?”

Muttering to herself didn’t really help, but it had become a habit during the last few years. Before coming to Whisper, Wyoming, she hadn’t dared to make friends. Hadn’t even stayed in one spot for longer than two weeks at a stretch. She’d kept moving. Always wary. Always scared, damn it. Until she’d finally awakened one morning to decide that she was through looking at life through her rearview mirror.

So she’d found this place, worked like a dog to fix it up and now she was running her own business. True, it wasn’t much of a business yet, but that would change. All she needed was time.

Her stomach jittered uneasily and Tessa paused long enough to slap one hand to it in a futile attempt to calm herself. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” she said quietly, glancing at the barn just steps away. “He’s hurt. You’re going to help. Then he’ll leave. End of story. Everything back to normal.”

Except, just what was normal? She ran a B and B with only one guest. She lived on the outskirts of a town where she was still pretty much a stranger. Christmas was a week away and she was more alone than ever. And she hadn’t had sex in five years.

Normal?

By whose standards?

“Sex? Who’s talking about sex?” Taking a breath, she picked up the first-aid kit again and said, “You are, Tessa. And you should just cut it out now, got it?”

But who could blame her? The man in her barn, even injured, oozed sex from every pore. One look into those dark eyes and any woman with a pulse would want to throw herself at him. Tessa was no different—despite having plenty of reasons to know better. Completely disgusted with herself now, she headed for the barn before she could find an excuse not to.

The sun was up and slanting across the yard, glinting on the snow brightly enough to make her squint just to keep her eyes clear. Another storm was due, and judging by the thick clouds surrounding that clear spot where the sun clung stubbornly to the sky, it was going to be a big one.

The air was icy and every breath felt as though she were sucking knives into her lungs. The naked branches of the trees surrounding the house were draped in ice that looked like diamonds, dazzling in the sunlight. From a distance, the sound of a fastmoving creek came to her and Tessa paused again, just to enjoy the place she’d finally decided to call home.

Five long years of belonging nowhere, of owning nothing. Five years of using false names and never trusting a soul. Then one day, Tessa had driven down this lonely stretch of road, spotted this house and recognized home. She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t really been looking for it. But this spot, this place, had called to her. As if it had been standing vacant, just waiting for her to come home and bring it to life again.

The small miracle was, that as she’d brought the old Victorian back from its slumbers…the house had awakened her, too. It was as if she was finally becoming the woman she’d once been. The woman who danced in the kitchen. The woman who could enjoy a quiet moment in the stillness, just appreciating a beautiful day.

And because she’d found that miracle, she was strong enough to help a man who looked as though he could use one, too.

With that thought firmly in mind, she headed for the barn again. Her boots crunched in the snow and the wind whipped around her, sneaking icy fingers down the collar of the jacket she’d thrown on over her sweater.

She didn’t care though. It felt good to be alive. And if she was a little nervous about the stranger in her barn…it was a natural kind of nervousness. So that was good, too.

She rounded the corner, stepped through the open barn door and stopped. He was gone.

“Mr. Stone?” She took another step and now her boots clacked and echoed against the old wooden planks. “Mr. Stone.”

“Over here.”

Her head whipped to one side and she spotted him, all the way into the corner of the barn; he had his back to the wall and his gaze on her. All around him slivers of sunlight peeked through the roof like golden bars of a cell, holding him in place.

A niggling, ridiculous notion tugged at the back of her mind for a second before she could dismiss it. “Are you all right?”

“Great.” His voice was tight. “Your roof needs fixing.”

“Yeah, but it’s low on the list right now.” She walked toward him with slow steps. Funny, but she felt almost as if she were trying to ease up on a hungry tiger. He had a taut stillness about him that made her think of a predator. And that was almost enough to make her back out of the barn and leave him alone. But if she did that, then she would be surrendering to her own fears and she’d worked too hard to get past that time in her life. To rediscover her own courage and the spirit that had once been so completely crushed.

“Look,” she said, forgetting about the fact that just a few minutes ago she’d wanted him gone, “you don’t have to stay in the barn. I told you, you can come inside. It’s warmer there and the roof doesn’t sprout sunlight every few inches.”

He scraped one hand across his face, then focused his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she saw the flash of something molten in those dark depths.

“You don’t have to do this.” His voice rumbled out around her, soft, deep, almost hypnotic. “You should go back inside. Don’t come back here.”

“This is my barn,” Tessa reminded him. “Of course I’m coming back here.”

He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “You have no sense of self-pres-ervation at all, do you?”

“Excuse me?” She knelt on the floor beside him and opened the first-aid kit. “I’m not the one who was lying unconscious in the snow.”

“I appreciate what you did, but you should just go back to your house. I’ll be gone by nightfall.”

“To where? I didn’t see a car out front.” And as she said it, Tessa wondered just how in the heck he’d come to be in her yard, anyway. Had he walked from town? In the snow?

“That’s not your concern.” He moved farther from her, tucking himself deeper into the shadowy corner.

Just then, the sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and the barn darkened, the slanting bars of sunlight winking out as if they’d never been. And the man huddled against the barn wall sighed, as if in relief.

“More snow’s coming,” Tessa pointed out with a glance behind her at the open barn door. She could smell it on the wind and in a heartbeat, she made a decision. “You can’t leave. This storm is supposed to be a big one. You probably wouldn’t make it into town before it hit—even if you had a car.”

Scowling, he gritted his teeth and gave her a short nod. “You’re right. I’ll wait out the storm.”

“Not out here, you won’t.” She picked up the first-aid kit again and stood up, to look down at him. “You’ll freeze to death.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“So I can find your frozen dead body in the morning?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fine.” Grayson pushed himself to his feet and swayed a little, reaching out one hand to the wall to steady himself.

He was hungry. Every cell in his body cried out for blood and the temptation of having her so near to him was one he was hard put to ignore. Her eyes stared up at him with concern, though, and that was enough to at least momentarily bank the bloodlust clamoring inside.

She had helped him. He wouldn’t repay her by sinking his teeth into her lovely throat.

No matter how much he longed to.

He shot a quick look at the world beyond the barn and noted that the light was gray, clouds having obliterated the sun. He could make it to the house. And once inside, away from the light, he could gather his strength. Then he’d leave her before his hunger outstripped his sense of chivalry.

“Lean on me.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking her shoulder under his arm.

“This is getting to be a habit,” he muttered and was rewarded by the smile she flashed him.

“Let’s get you into the house.”

They made it across the yard and up the steps, with Tessa supporting his every stride. It had been a long time since Grayson had needed anyone’s help. And accepting that help didn’t come easily to him. Still, he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t get into the house and away from the danger of sunlight, he would die. And just at this moment, with Tessa’s scent filling him, he realized that he wasn’t ready to march into hell.

“Come on,” she said, opening the door. “Come inside and sit down near the fire.”

Her invitation was enough to let him pass the threshold and he stumbled through the kitchen with her help, into the wide living room where a fire blazed and crackled in the hearth. She eased him onto an overstuffed sofa crowded with colorful pillows and Grayson laid his head on the back of the couch. The fatigue seeping into every square inch of his body dragged at him.

He hadn’t been awake during daylight hours in decades. Now he remembered why. He battled unconsciousness, his thoughts becoming fuzzy, his breathing slowing. The scent of cinnamon hung in the air and mingled with the pine garland strung across the mantel. Christmas.

Not a particularly festive time in a vampire’s year.

Especially for him.

Being in this house again brought back memories so vivid, so alive, the empty room seemed to throb with them. He’d built this house himself. Moved his wife and children into it. Planned to live, grow old and die within its walls.

Well, he’d gotten one out of three right.

“Are you hungry?”

He turned his head to look at her. His gaze locked on the graceful column of her throat and he would have sworn he could actually see her pulse pounding there. Her blood would be warm and rich and sweet. He could almost taste it, flowing down his throat, slaking his thirst, easing his pain.

Deliberately, he closed his eyes. “No.”

“At least let me get you some coffee.”

“Fine. And—” he spoke quickly as she turned to go to the kitchen “—I’m expecting a delivery this afternoon. If I’m…asleep, will you sign for it?”

“Sure, but—”

“Thanks.” That one word was a dismissal and she obviously felt it. He wasn’t about to explain about the delivery of blood for which he’d arranged before he knew his house would be occupied. And, he told himself, his business manager was going to pay for it as soon as Grayson returned to New York.

“Okay, be right back.”

He listened to the fire, letting its soothing sounds settle over him. Memories crowded his mind as sleep dragged him down—images of a different place, a different time, danced through his mind, one after the other. He allowed them to fill him and welcomed the pain as he remembered the faces of his children. His wife’s voice.

Then the images shifted, changing, becoming the living nightmare that was never entirely gone.

His family’s screams echoed over and over again in his mind and Grayson jerked awake suddenly with a shriek erupting from his own chest.

The sun.

“Damn it!” He jolted from the couch and the wide beam of sunlight lying across it.

The windows were uncovered to welcome whatever winter sunlight made it through the clouds. And the once shadow-filled living room was now bathed in a golden light that had already burned patches of skin from his hands and face.

Skin smoking, eyes streaming, Grayson took one long leap and stood against the far wall, air wheezing from his lungs. His fangs exploded in his mouth and the adrenaline coursing through him turned him into a dangerous creature. Age-old instincts rippled through him and whatever there was left of the man he’d been drained away. He was now a wild thing—looking for survival above all else.

“Fool.” The day had made him slow and stupid. He should have secured the damn drapes. Made certain that no sun could reach him. But he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been so wrapped up in the past he’d forgotten about the present.

He squinted into the sunlight streaming through the window and screaming pain lanced through his mind and body. His chest felt tight, his lungs strained for air. His skin was ablaze with burning agony. He turned his gaze from the window, lifted one scorched hand to protect his eyes and spotted Tessa, who had stopped dead in the doorway.

As if in slow motion, she dropped the coffee cup she held. It shattered on the floor, brown liquid splashing up on her jeans. Her eyes wide, her mouth open, she looked at him and he knew exactly what she was seeing.

A monster.

Chapter 3

“Oh, my God!” She clapped one hand to her mouth and stared at him through horror-stricken eyes. “You…who…what are you?”

His lips peeled back from his fangs and she shrank back another step or two. Caught against the wall, splayed there as surely as if he’d been chained, Grayson watched her and focused only on her. He couldn’t allow her to panic.

He needed her.

A part of him was sorry to see that look in her eyes. A part of him had enjoyed being treated as an ordinary man. Yet, he didn’t have time for her fear. He had only moments before the encroaching sun found him in the narrow patch of shade he stood in.

Staring directly into her eyes, he used the full force of his legendary power to direct her to do exactly as he ordered. “Go to the bookcase,” he said, his voice tight against the pain still lancing through him. His fangs retracted slightly, reacting to the agony sweeping through him. Hissing in a breath, he swallowed back the pain. “There’s a latch. Halfway down the first shelf. Pull it.”

She did, taking one small step after another, as if she were a marionette and someone else—he—was pulling her strings. She found the latch, gave it a hard yank and the bookcase pulled away from the wall with a loud creak from the hidden hinges. Tessa only stood there, watching him, and Grayson couldn’t allow himself to think about what she was feeling.

The only way to safety lay through the slanting rays of golden light. More pain. But then, pain had become a way of life for him. Pain and hunger. Both of which jolted through his system, leaving him both ultra-alert and exhausted. Gathering what little of his strength remained, he braced himself for the dash through sunlight into the promised sanctuary of the hidden room—hopefully without bursting into flame.

He bolted quickly and in four long steps, he was safely in shadow again. His skin buzzing, his hair smoking, Grayson took a breath and bit down hard on the agony holding him in a tight fist. He stood in the room he’d created for his family’s safety so long ago and thought it ironic that this room hadn’t served its purpose until he was dead.

Then Tessa, free of his influence, came around the edge of the bookcase and gave him a hard look.

Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her eyes still shone with the shock of a truth she could barely believe and the scent of fear wafted from her like a heady perfume. But there was more. There was also anger.

“You lied to me.”

He hadn’t expected that to be the first thing she said to him. “I didn’t lie.”

“You let me believe you were a man. But you’re not.”

“No.”

“You’re…” Tessa broke off, unable to say the word her mind kept screaming.

“A vampire,” he finished for her. “Yes.”

“That’s impossible.” Tessa fought against the wild panic clutching at her heart, squeezing her throat tight until she felt as though she’d never draw another breath.

But even as she tried to deny it, she knew it was true. She’d seen his…fangs. God. Her head felt as if it were going to explode. She couldn’t believe this was happening. There had to be some other explanation. Trick of the light. Her eyes went weird on her, that was all. She’d seen something that wasn’t there.

Vampires only existed in television shows. Really gorgeous vamps, with souls who didn’t bite people. Well, she told herself with another shocked look at him. He had the gorgeous part down pat. Who knew about the biting. Oh, God. A vampire.

This was so not happening. Clearly, the years on the run had pushed her over the edge. Her brain had finally snapped and who could blame her?

“Impossible,” she repeated firmly, determined to not go believing in imaginary creatures—no matter how gorgeous they were.

“Is it?” He lifted both hands and she saw the burns marking his skin. Brain whirling, she remembered the same scorch marks she’d seen on his skin earlier, when she’d found him lying in the dawn.

Sunlight.

“No way,” she said, fingers tightening on the bookshelf until she wouldn’t have been surprised to see indentations from her grip smashed into the heavy wood.

He blew out a breath, scraped one hand through his thick hair and slowly stalked the confines of a hidden room she’d been completely unaware of. She kept her gaze on him, and still managed to give the small room a quick once-over. There was a square table and four chairs. A single bed pushed against one wall and several empty shelves along another. It was a safe room of some kind, she thought as he spoke again.

“Believe me or don’t. That’s your business.”

He sounded tired. And she could understand that. Nearly going up in flames was bound to take a toll. Even from across this distance, she saw the scorched, burned flesh on the backs of his hands and on his face. He had to be in terrible pain, but he showed no sign of it.

And despite the evidence in front of her, Tessa argued with the only possible conclusion. She fixed her gaze on him and found the tattered threads of her courage. “Vampires don’t exist.”

“Not if you don’t want them to.” He leaned against the empty shelving and blew out a breath.

“If you are one, and I’m not saying you are,” Tessa hedged, “why didn’t you bite me before?”

He gave her a long, thoughtful stare. “Thought about it.” His gaze lowered to the base of her neck. “Still thinking about it.”

Her stomach turned over and fear quickened within only to dissipate a moment later. He’d had ample opportunity to kill her, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d warned her off. Tried to make her leave him alone. And right now, he was trying to scare her into backing away.

“You’re lying again.” She shook her head. “If you’d thought about biting me, you would have.”

“No,” he said with a smile that curled her toes. “I’m not lying. I wanted to drink you.”

She sucked in air like a drowning person and felt the world tilt at a weird angle. As he stared at her, she could almost feel his mouth at her throat and a part of her wondered desperately what that would feel like.

Was he making her feel like this?

“Why didn’t you then?”

Wincing, he rubbed one hand with the other and shrugged. “You were trying to help. Seemed ungrateful.”

“A polite vampire?” Why did that sound so much weirder?

He laughed shortly, used the toe of his boot to pull out one of the ancient chairs and dropped onto it as if he didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. Bracing one arm on the table, he leaned back, kicked his feet out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “Let’s say old habits are hard to break. Good manners being one of them.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“You didn’t tell me this though.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me anyway,” he pointed out.

“True.” She wouldn’t have. If he’d been honest with her, she’d have thought he was crazy. She could hardly believe his truth now, and she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes. He had fangs, for Pete’s sake. Sunlight had burned him. Another moment or two and he would have died. But, could someone already dead actually die again?

Who would ever have guessed she’d need the answer to that question?

“So now what?” she asked. “I mean, now that I do know, what’re you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” he muttered and slapped one hand against the table.

“Why should I believe that you’re not planning to bite me?”

“Because I give you my word.”

“Uh-huh…” Her disbelief colored her voice. She’d heard promises before. And in her experience, promises weren’t worth the breath used to make them.

“Stay in the sunlight,” he told her. “Then you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“Until night.”

He speared her with a look. “Look. I’m tired. I’m hungry.”

She flinched.

He saw it. “You’re right to be careful. I’m a vampire. Definitely not to be trusted. But you’re safe from me, Tessa. I won’t harm you. And I’ll leave.” He closed his eyes. “Just as I told you I would. Right after sundown.”

Strange, but that assurance didn’t make her feel any better. Oh, she believed he wouldn’t bite her. She wasn’t sure why she believed, but she did. It was his promise to leave that she didn’t like. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of him disappearing from her life was not something she wanted to think about. Staring into his eyes, she saw pain and resignation and regret and felt those same emotions tugging at her.

He didn’t speak again. And Tessa studied him. Without the fangs, he looked like any other man. Better-looking than most though, even with the patches of raw, angry skin on his face and hands.

Every instinct she possessed told her she could trust him. Foolish? Maybe. But she’d learned the hard way to trust her instincts.

They’d kept her alive when her would-be boyfriend had tried to kill her. Those same instincts had led her to this tiny town in Wyoming where she’d found this place and some small semblance of peace. And, they’d led her into the early morning snow to save this vampire’s life.

There had to be a reason for it.

Before she could change her mind, she turned for the kitchen, grabbed the first-aid kit and headed back to where she’d left him. His eyes were open…those dark, penetrating eyes that seemed filled with a strength and a loneliness that drew her to him in spite of his warnings.

Deliberately, she took a step out of the sunlight and into the small room that was filled with shadows and the powerful presence of a wounded vampire. His eyes narrowed on her as she walked closer to him.

“I can’t decide if you’re foolish or brave,” he said at last when she stopped alongside the table. “You’re taking quite a chance, Tessa.”

She held up the kit before setting it onto the table. “You’re hurt. I can help.”

“Why would you want to?”

Good question. Her fear was still rattling inside, twisting her stomach into tight knots. But here she stood, alone with a vampire. “Because I’ve been hurt and alone.”

His gaze narrowed. “You should get the hell away from me.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

Quicker than she could see, he shot out one hand, grabbed her arm and curled his fingers into her skin. The move was so startling, she jerked back despite her best intentions. He saw it and released her.

“You’re afraid. I can smell it on you.” One corner of his mouth lifted and fell in a blink. “To a vampire, that scent is compelling.”

Her arm tingled where he’d grabbed her. His eyes caught and held her and while she watched, the darks of his eyes bled into the whites until all she could see was her reflection shining back at her from the depths of twin black pools.

“You’re a tempting package, Tessa.” His gaze swept up and down her body with the intimacy of a touch.

“Now you’re deliberately trying to scare me.”

“Damn right.” He straightened up in his chair. “Don’t mistake me for some wounded hero. I’m a monster.”

“No.” Tessa looked at him and shook her head. “You might be a vampire, but you’re not a monster. Trust me on this. I’ve seen a real monster. Up close and personal. You’re nothing like him.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “I’m not a man, either. The man I once was, died a hundred and fifty years ago.”

She opened the first-aid kit. “How?”

“What?”

“How did you die?” She picked up the tube of antiseptic lotion and unscrewed the lid.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and glanced around the tiny, windowless space.

“Okay. How’d you become a vampire?”

He glanced at her.

“Same question,” she said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

“You’re not reacting the way I would have expected you to.” He looked at her and while he watched her, his eyes softened, becoming again the dark brown they’d been when she first found him.

“More screaming, fewer questions?”

“Frankly, yeah.”

“Well, here’s another one for you,” she said. “How’d you know this room was here? I didn’t and I’ve lived here for six months.”

“I built this room. Hell,” he added on a short, humorless laugh, “built this house.”

“Really?” She picked up one of his hands and tenderly smoothed some of the lotion onto the reddened, already healing skin. Apparently, he didn’t need her help.

As if reading her mind, he said, “We heal fast.”

She put the lotion away and closed the kit with a snap. From the other room, she heard a door open and a man’s voice call out, “Ms. Franklin?”

Grayson snapped a look toward the sound.

Tessa grabbed the first-aid kit. “It’s my guest, Joe Baston.”

“He can’t know I’m here.”

“Yeah. I figured that out on my own.”

But in a few seconds, Joe would be entering the living room and he’d see the bookcase pulled away from the wall. Quickly, Tessa spun to leave the hidden room. She paused at the opening to look back at Grayson. “You’ll be safe here.”

She stared into his eyes as she swung the bookcase closed, sealing her vampire in, and she wondered if she could say the same thing about herself.

Chapter 4

Grayson woke up in the dark. Nothing new there, but for a second he couldn’t figure out why he was awake. He sensed that it was still daylight because his body hadn’t recharged itself yet. The lethargy bore him down into the flattened, hundred-and-fifty-year-old mattress on the narrow bed he’d constructed so long ago.

His burns were mostly healed, but his hands still tingled with the reminder of the close call he’d had. Hell. He hadn’t been caught in daylight since he’d been newly changed. One day with Tessa Franklin and he’d almost become a torch.

Twice.

When the cell phone in his pocket rang again, he realized what had pulled him out of sleep. Grabbing the damn thing, he checked caller ID, then answered—only because he knew this caller wouldn’t give up until he’d gotten through. “What is it, Damon?”

“Where the hell are you?”

Damon St. John, the Vampire King, wasn’t known for his patience in the best of times. With his new reign already threatened by lesser vampires looking to take over, this was clearly not the best of times.

“None of your business,” Grayson told him. “I’m out of this and you know it.”

It was a long-running argument. Damon and he had been friends until Damon had decided to take an active part in governing the vampire “community.” Now, he’d been named king, but there were factions that weren’t happy about Damon being in charge.

Grayson didn’t care. He stayed out of politics, and instead kept to himself, along the way earning a reputation as being a rogue. Which was fine by him. He’d spent the last hundred years keeping a low profile. He’d amassed a fortune out of hard work, luck and, hell, boredom. And the king was counting on Grayson to back him in the fight to keep his throne.

“You’re in Wyoming, aren’t you?” Damon’s disgust came clearly across the phone. “Still punishing yourself for surviving?”

“Back off.” Grayson sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees. This was an old argument, too. Damon had never been able to understand why Grayson hadn’t simply accepted being a vampire. The freedom. The immortality.

Maybe it was because his immortality had come at too high a price.

“I need you back here.”

“You’ve got plenty of support,” Grayson reminded him.

“The other side is counting on you,” Damon said tightly. “They figure if you’re not supporting me, you’ll be on their side. Are they right?”

Pushing himself off the cot, Grayson stalked around the small, dark room. Outside, there was a world going about its business. Here, there were only shadows. And memories. He shoved one hand through his hair. “No,” he said. “They’re not right. I’m out of this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Damon told him. “You can’t be out. You’re a vampire. And it doesn’t matter how often you go to that damned house of yours. You’ll never be a man again. So why don’t you just let it go? Move on?”

“Stay out of this, Damon.” Anger simmered inside.

“Fine. Torture yourself some more. Just keep your eyes open. Seems my enemies are looking for you.”

When they hung up, Grayson tossed the phone onto the old table. Hell, maybe Damon was right. What was the point of coming back here year after year? Maybe his business manager had done the right thing in selling off the house. Maybe it was time he accepted who and what he was.

He threw a glance at the back of the bookcase as if he could see beyond that doorway into the house where Tessa was. She’d surprised him. Intrigued him. And he wanted her. Wanted the taste of her in his mouth and the feel of his body inside hers.

Everything in him itched to find her, toss her onto that damned cot and have her. Instincts he’d been at war with since his change rose to the surface and shook him to the bone. Tessa Franklin had thrown him. Hard.

Then he remembered what Damon had said. Other vampires knew about his habit of coming to this house at Christmas. If they followed him here, Tessa wasn’t safe. He’d brought the vampire war directly to her door.

His chest tightened. If another vampire showed up on her door, she wouldn’t suspect him. She’d probably think he was just another guest for her damned inn. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.

Which meant he was going to have to do it for her.

Looked like he was involved in this vampire war whether he wanted to be or not.

“Definitely time to stop coming here,” he muttered and sank down onto the chair.

Tessa had a vampire stashed in a secret room, but that didn’t keep her from attacking Christmas week in a big way. She busied herself hanging more garland and setting out the cranberry- and pinescented candles. There was a dish of chocolates on the living room table that she dipped into a little too often, but since she had a vampire in her house, Tessa figured she was due a little extra chocolate.

Besides, staying busy kept her from thinking too much. Thinking about how her vampire had once owned this house. Heck, built this house. About the power in his eyes. About what it felt like when he’d touched her.

And he’s not your vampire, she told herself firmly. For God’s sake. A vampire. She couldn’t stop thinking of that word. Obsession. Good sign. But she couldn’t help the way her insides jangled when she thought about him.

She had to stop thinking of the word vampire.

Which was why it was a good thing that her only customer, Joe Baston, was checking out early. He was a nice man, but Tessa couldn’t help but be grateful that he was leaving. Hiding a vampire in your secret room was a lot easier when there wasn’t anyone else around.

Vampire.

Stop it! Her fingers shook as she filled in the credit card slip for the older man standing opposite her. Giving him a smile she hoped he wouldn’t notice was a little too forced to be really cheerful, she said, “I hope you come back, Mr. Baston.”

“Oh, that’d be real nice. It’s a great place you have here.” He glanced around at the high, beamed ceilings and the fresh cream-colored paint on the wood plank walls. “Homey. Welcoming. I think you’ve got yourself a winner with this inn.”

Not if all of her customers left as early as he did, Tessa thought but didn’t say.

But he seemed to understand, since he spoke up again quickly. “I’m sure sorry about leaving early.” He didn’t look sorry, though. His pleased grin was infectious. “But my daughter’s insisting I stay with her while I’m here, and it’s a chance to spend lots of extra time with the grandkids.”

“It’s not a problem, really,” Tessa said, watching him sign the slip. After all, she’d only been open a couple of weeks. She was sure to get more customers after the holidays. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your trip.”

“Well,” he said, tossing the pen onto her desk, “I’ll be sure to tell folks what a nice place you’ve got here.”

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.” Tessa smiled and waved as he headed out the door, and then she looked around the empty room.

She needed more Christmas in here. A tree, of course, but one glance at the snow currently pelting the front windows told her that she wouldn’t be taking care of that chore today.

But she did everything else she could think of—pausing every now and then for a glimpse at the bookcase hiding Grayson Stone from her.

Amazing how much the world could change in twenty-four hours. God, yesterday seemed like a lifetime ago. Yesterday, she hadn’t even known vampires existed. Now she had one stashed in her house.

Was she crazy?

Probably. Absolutely, who was she kidding? Vampires were fictional. Dreamed up by authors trying to scare gullible readers when everyone knew there were enough scary real things out there already!

The doorbell rang. She jolted out of her thoughts and hurried across the room. She peered through the glass in the upper half of the door and spotted a private delivery van in the driveway. Opening the door, she was slapped by an icy wind and wet splats of snow. Squinting, she half hid behind the door and asked, “Yes?”

“Delivery for Grayson Stone.” The short guy in a beige uniform and a fluorescent orange parka held out a clipboard with a sign-in sheet and a pen attached to it. “Sign at number sixteen.”

“Right.” Grayson had told her a package would arrive. She signed her name, handed the clipboard back and when he turned to leave, she saw the box on the porch. Plain brown wrapping and a name and address label. No clue to what was inside.

She fought the wind, grabbed the box and stepped back into the house, slamming the door with her hip. The fire crackled and hissed as she stared down at the box and wondered about what could be inside. Carrying the heavy parcel across the room, she pulled on the bookcase latch and let the doorway swing open.

Grayson grabbed her at the throat.

She yelped, dropped the box and he let her go instantly. Staggering back, Tessa gulped in some air and forced her heart out of her throat and back into her chest where it belonged. She flipped her hair back out of her eyes and glared at him. “What the heck was that for?”

“Announce yourself. I didn’t know who the hell might have discovered this room,” he muttered, moving to the table.

“So you had to strangle me?” She rubbed her throat and could still feel the strength of his grip imprinted on her flesh. “Besides, even I didn’t know this room existed. How’s a stranger going to wander in and discover it?” Fear dribbled into the pit of her stomach, despite the fact that he’d let her go as soon as he’d figured out that she wasn’t a threat.

“Sorry.” He paced to the far wall, spun around and looked at her.

He kept a safe distance from her now, as if to convince one or both of them that he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“I’m not used to being around—”

“Humans?” she finished for him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, try harder.” She waved a hand at the toppled box. “The package you told me about was just delivered.”

“Good. Thanks.” He walked to it, picked it up and set it onto the table. Then he looked at her meaningfully.

She frowned. “What is it?”

“Mine.”

Tessa shook her head. “I want to know what’s in my house.”

He watched her for a long second or two, then gave her a sharp nod. Tearing the strapping tape free, he opened the box, lifted out a Styrofoam packer containing dry ice, then reached deeper. He pulled out a small, plastic bag filled with…blood.

The thick red liquid sloshed back and forth while he held it and Tessa’s stomach did a quick pitch and roll. Of course. Vampire. Blood.

“Okay…” She pulled in a breath and let it go again slowly. “I just…I guess I wasn’t expecting to see that.”

“Vampire, remember?” He dropped the blood back into the box and folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve got connections at a blood bank.”

“Wow. ‘Blood bank’ sort of takes on a whole new meaning for me now.”

He frowned at her. “It’s better this way, believe me. I haven’t drunk from a living human in nearly a hundred years.”

How insane was it that she actually found that information sort of comforting?

As if he sensed her relief, he added, “That doesn’t mean things can’t change.”

“You’re deliberately trying to keep me scared,” she pointed out. “And not that it’s working, but why?”

“Because you should be.” He came around the table, laid both hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “Others of my kind know I come here every year. Some may come looking for me. That means you’re not safe.”

“More vampires? Here?” Looking up into his deep black eyes, she shivered. “Why are they looking for you?”

He let her go and shook his head. “There’s a war brewing in the vampire world. We’re expected to take sides.”

“A vampire war?” Tessa’s voice sounded strained even to herself, as if she’d had to squeeze those words out a too tight throat. “And it’s coming here?”

“Maybe.” He scraped a hand across his jaw. “I don’t know who’s coming—hell, even if anyone is coming. Can’t be sure.”

“And if they do come, then what?” The small dribble of fear she’d felt earlier became a running river, pushing through her veins, making her mouth dry and her head feel light.

He slanted a look at her. “If they come, then you should be gone.”

Go? When she’d finally found a home? When she finally had something to live for? A chance at a life that wasn’t revolving around hiding? No.

She’d run before to save her life.

Now she would stay to fight for it. “I’m not leaving.”

“Yeah. Thought you’d say that.” Walking back to the table, he reached into the box and picked up a packet of blood. “So. Looks like I won’t be leaving tonight after all.”

“Damn straight,” she snapped, fear giving way to resolve at the thought of hordes of vampires descending on her. “You can help me make stakes…and I wonder if the church in town is open. Holy water. A bucket or two full. And…” She stopped, looked at him and said, “I know why I want the help. But why are you volunteering to stay?”

“Because I brought this here. And I’m not going to bring more death into this house.”

His gaze was dark, his features tight and every square inch of him looked poised for battle. That sense of power that clung to him filled the tiny room and practically hummed in the air.

“More death?”

“A hundred and fifty years ago,” he said quietly, “my wife and children died in this house. And I was the one who invited their killer inside.”

Chapter 5

Grayson ignored the stamp of curiosity on her features. He’d said more than he’d planned and now regretted it. But then he was used to a life filled with regrets. What was one more? Lifting his head, he reached out with the finely honed senses of his kind and smiled. “Near sundown.”

“Close. But it’s snowing, so there’s no sun anyway.”

“You have a microwave?” he asked, picking up a packet of blood and leaving the rest in the shipping box. He headed out of the secret room, not waiting to see if she followed. He’d had more than his share of small spaces crowded with too many ghosts for one day.

“Of course,” she said, coming up right behind him. “Why do you…oh.”

He stared at her, then deliberately lowered his gaze to her neck. “I prefer my blood hot.”

She swallowed hard, but she didn’t flinch this time—just stared right back at him and he had to give her points for it. All in all, Tessa Franklin was a woman who could adjust to the bizarre fairly quickly. A shame she wasn’t more careful.

If more of his kind showed up here looking for him, it was likely they wouldn’t show her the same sort of consideration he was. They’d look at her and see her only as something to drink.

Why that bothered him more than it should, he didn’t care to think about.

He walked back to the kitchen and waited while she got him a coffee mug. He smirked at the happy face stamped on it in bright yellow, but opened the packet of blood and poured it inside. Opening the microwave, he set the mug inside, closed the door and punched the timer.

While he waited, he turned to look at her in the overhead lights. Beyond the kitchen, the day was dying in a swirl of ice and snow. He saw trees bending with their heavy white burden and heard the moan of the wind as it curled around the house. He focused more sharply then, and heard the skittering footsteps of a small animal looking for shelter. There was a brush of something more, too. Not vampire. Not completely human. Something—it was gone as quickly as it had come. Had he imagined it? Was he so primed for a threat, he saw one where none existed?

He shook his head and heard the buzz of the light fixture, and the beat of Tessa’s heart. That quick, staccato rhythm told him she was more nervous than she pretended to be.

Courage or foolishness?

His mind still open to any possible threat, he reached into the microwave when the timer dinged, took out the mug and had a sip.

She frowned, but he ignored it. “We all need blood to survive, Tessa. Even humans.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and looked him square in the eye, as if trying to tell him she wasn’t bothered by the sight of him drinking. “I guess you’re right. It’s just—”

“Easier to take with an IV tube?”

“Yes.”

“I am what I am. Have been for too long to apologize for it now.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.”

Not with words. But he read her eyes. Those deep blue eyes that looked at him and saw a man— until he reminded her otherwise. He shrugged and moved to the bay window overlooking the yard and the stand of woods beyond. Changing the subject because he preferred talking of things that didn’t matter, he said, “It hasn’t really changed much over the years. You say you just bought it.”

“A few months ago.” She came up beside him with quiet steps. “The first time I saw the house, I knew I wanted it. It was as if it had been sitting here. Waiting for me.” She reached out and touched one hand to the mist on the cold window, leaving her fingerprints in the damp. “Sounds silly, but I felt like I’d found home.”

“It’s a good place,” he said, not commenting on her little confession. But he knew what she meant. He’d felt the same when he first saw this piece of land so long ago. It had all been wide open then. With the nearest neighbor almost twenty miles away. He and his family had settled into the seclusion and hadn’t minded being on their own.

Until that last night.

As if she knew his thoughts had turned to the past again, she spoke up.

“What happened? I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” He took another drink of the hot blood, savoring the thick, rich taste as it slid down his throat. Appropriate, he thought, that he should have blood in his mouth to tell this story.

“It was Christmas night.” His voice was cool, detached, as though he were talking about something that had happened to a stranger. And that was more right than not, after all. It had been so long now, the man he’d been had nothing to do with the person he’d become. “A man came to the door. Freezing. Hungry. So near death I thought he wouldn’t last the night. I brought him inside.”

He remembered it all so clearly. The scents. The sounds. The baby’s cry, his wife’s soft humming, his son’s laughter. Decades fell away and Grayson tumbled into his own private hell. “We warmed him. Fed him. Though it wasn’t food he wanted.”

He shifted his gaze to hers and held it, trapping her in the story with him, dipping into her mind, so that the pictures he painted were as vivid for her as they were for him. “He killed my wife first. One twist of her neck and she was gone. I fought him, but he was too strong. I remember seeing murder in his eyes and I recall the feel of his fangs as they sank into my neck. Then the next thing I knew, it was morning and I wasn’t dead. Though everyone else was.”

Seconds ticked past before she swayed, closed her eyes briefly and said, “Oh, God. Grayson…”

“He could have killed me, too, of course. Instead he turned me. So that I’d wake and find what he’d left behind. So that I’d survive, knowing everything I loved was dead.”

“You couldn’t have known. When you brought him into the house—you couldn’t have known.”

He refused her offer of sympathy, brushing it aside as if he hadn’t heard the shock and sorrow in her voice. “That’s the point I’m trying to make to you. No one can know. You run an inn. Do you think vampires never stay in hotels? You think they really do live in caves and sleep in coffins?”

“Up until I met you, I didn’t know they existed!”

“Exactly. You don’t know. You wouldn’t recognize a vampire if it came to your door.” He laughed shortly. “Obviously. You didn’t recognize the danger in me. Instead you let me in. You wanted to take care of me.”

“You see compassion as a weakness,” she argued. “It’s not.”

She still didn’t get it. Grayson felt a surge of anger rise up inside to nearly choke him. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the danger around her. Which meant she was in even more jeopardy than most.

“You’re the kind of person vampires live for. Most of them are just killers. They’re not interested in making others of our kind. All they want is to feed and destroy. They leave a trail of misery behind them and think nothing more of it once they’ve moved on. It was blind, stupid luck for you that I’ve sworn off humans. Otherwise—” he paused for a sip “—let’s just say you’d make a damned good snack, Tessa.”

Her eyes narrowed.

In a blink, he set the mug down, grabbed hold of her arm and gave her a hard shake. “Not everything out there deserves your compassion, Tessa. You don’t want to see what’s out there, that’s your business. But until I’m sure that none of my kind have followed me here, you’ll listen to me. You’ll open your eyes. You think you’re prepared. Safe. But you’re not. Humanity thinks it knows evil, but none of you have a clue.”

He held her tight with one hand and waved the other toward the window and the storm beyond the glass. “There are creatures moving among you that live only to cause pain. Who look for nothing more than the opportunity to strike. Do you think you can fight them off? Do you think you can survive?”

Her breath came fast and furious. She pulled free of him and he saw fire in her eyes when she glared at him. It pleased him. At least she had a temper and knew what to do with it.

“You think you’ve got the patent on suffering? Someone killed your family and left you to live with the memory?” She slapped both hands to his chest, gave him a vicious shove that didn’t budge him in the slightest. Even more furious now, she shouted, “You think you’re the only one?You’re my first vampire, but you’re nowhere near my first brush with real evil. Big deal. Vampires bite. Humans kill, too, you know…”

There was something raw in her eyes now. A bleeding pain that ripped through her and reached out to touch him as well. He refused to acknowledge it.

“But a human is still something to be reasoned with,” he told her.

She laughed at him, the sound harsh and ragged. “You think so?” Her short dark hair dropped onto her forehead and she tossed her head, sending it out of her way. “I ran for five years from a man—a human—who said he only wanted to love me.”

She couldn’t stand still. She walked in jerky steps to the kitchen counter and back again. “God. He really believed that, too. Two dates. That’s all we had. Two dates and my instincts told me to get away. I knew there was something wrong with him. Something terrifying. So I broke it off.”

She sent Grayson a look that was filled with bone-chilling terror. “He wouldn’t listen. He stalked me. Haunted me. He stood outside my house at night, followed me to work in the mornings. I got a restraining order.” She rubbed her arms viciously as if her blood had congealed in her veins. “That only made him madder. He set fire to my car. He killed my dog. Finally, he broke in to my house when I was out and killed a friend of mine who picked the wrong night to stop by with pizza…”

Tears streaked down her face, unheeded, unchecked. Her eyes were wild and furious and filled with a pain he recognized, as he lived with something much like it every day. He reached for her, but she jumped back from him.

“Don’t.” Tessa held up both hands and fought for control. God, she’d shatter if he touched her. She knew she would. Cold wrapped itself around her entire being, squeezing her heart, icing her lungs until she felt as though she might never draw another breath.

Her memories were every bit as emotionally charged as his. She couldn’t go a single night without dreaming of the past. Without seeing her home, her things shattered, Jamie’s broken body laying splayed and forgotten in her living room. She heard over and over again the quiet calm of the po-liceman’s voice. The flash of the red and blue lights on the squad cars slicing through the darkness.

She felt it all. Remembered it all. And had finally found the courage to live anyway. To forge a life for herself. To refuse to surrender to the terror Justin had subjected her to.

She’d escaped. That was what she clung to. What she had to keep uppermost in her mind. She’d finally found a way to stand in the light. And she wouldn’t go back into the darkness.

Looking at the man across from her, she stared into his dark eyes and wondered why she’d opened up to him. Wondered how Grayson Stone had become so important to her in such a short amount of time. How he’d gotten past the defenses she’d erected so carefully around her heart, her emotions. He was a stranger. He called himself a monster.

But somehow, he was so much more, too. She took a deep breath, blew it out and said, “Just don’t touch me right now, Grayson. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t even know why I told you that. There’s something about you, I guess—I don’t know. It’s just…I don’t like being treated like I’m an idiot. I’m not.” She met his gaze. “I’ve already survived a monster and I’ll do fine with whatever else comes at me.”

The organ that had once been Grayson’s heart twisted for her sake and the sensation was so rare, it startled him. It had been a century or more since he’d cared about anything. Or anyone.

Why now?

Why her?

“I’m not running anymore,” she said as if expecting him to tell her to leave again. “Like the saying goes, Been there, done that. I changed my name so often even I couldn’t keep track of who I was at any given moment. I lived in dumps. Rooming houses or cheap motels. I didn’t have friends. I supported myself with temporary jobs because I was too afraid to even use my savings, for fear he’d somehow track me down that way. All I thought about was keeping my head down. Hiding. Running.”

She shook her head, used her hands to swipe away what was left of her tears, and then she lifted her chin, pride making her spine straight. “Until I came here. I found this place. And it’s mine. It’s home. I’m not going to run again. Not because of him. Not because of you. And not because of some vampires that may or may not show up.”

Grayson watched her, saw her determination, her strength, and though he admired her for those traits, he knew they might also get her killed. “You’re not going to listen, are you?”

She inhaled sharply, forced a smile she didn’t feel and shook her head. “No, I’m not. Besides,” she offered as her smile took on a touch of warmth, “it’s nearly Christmas. I escaped my own personal nightmare on Christmas Eve. So I’m a big believer in Christmas miracles.”

“Miracles.” Even the taste of the word felt foreign to him. Especially since her “miracle” time of the year had been an ending for him. He’d prayed that night, fast and desperate. But nothing had come to save his family. To prevent the destruction of everything he loved.

Yet, hadn’t she survived her own trip in to hell? And she’d come out not only whole, but with a strength of purpose that humbled him. Grayson studied her and fought the rising tide of sensation inside him.

She touched something in him. Something he’d thought dead and buried long ago. And he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or furious about that.

But either way, Grayson knew he wouldn’t be leaving until she was safe.

“So,” she said after a couple of long minutes, “if we’re finished with the true confession portion of the evening, how about you help me string some lights around the front porch?”

He blinked at her. “Lights?”

“Yeah.” She grabbed her jacket from a hook by the back door and slipped into it. “Sun’s down—or nearly anyway.” She smiled and grabbed the doorknob. “And as long as you’re here, you can help.”

Standing in the open doorway, Grayson stared after her, with the wind and cold slapping at him. Hanging Christmas lights hadn’t been part of his plan in coming here. But things had changed.

He shifted his gaze to the woods that straggled around the edge of the property and studied the shadows. His senses were honed, and as he searched, he reached for that brief flash he’d felt earlier.

But it was gone.

Chapter 6

Grayson strung lights. He hung up an ornament-and-pinecone-studded wreath on the front door and even helped wrap wide, bright, red ribbon around the columns along the porch.

He shook his head as he slipped through the night, amazed at just what he’d come to. Putting up Christmas decorations, for pity’s sake. He still wasn’t sure exactly how Tessa had managed to get him to help. But one look into her deep blue eyes and he’d heard himself agreeing to all manner of things he wouldn’t have considered before.

Glancing back at the house, he paused a moment to take in the jewel-like brilliance of it. Lamplight shone from every window. The twinkling, multicolored lights ran along the bottom rim of the roof and smoke lifted and twisted from the chimney.

It looked like a Christmas card.

Scowling to himself, he turned his back on the festive sight and loped into the shadowy depths of the stand of woods. He found the snow-covered duffel bag with his clothes easily enough. He’d dropped it when he was hit on the head the night before. Grabbing the icy leather strap, he swung his gaze over his surroundings, searching for that hint of something wrong.

He’d felt it earlier. Then again when Tessa was laughing at him over the placement of her damned ribbons. Something. Someone? In the woods.

Watching.

Who was being watched, though?

Him? Or Tessa?

Thoughts of her brought Tessa’s image to mind and he wanted to growl at himself for giving a damn about what happened to her. It wasn’t only hearing her story of the man who’d stalked her. It wasn’t the fact that she’d saved his ass by dragging him out of the encroaching sunlight. It was more. It was her.

By rights he should have been gone by now. Far away from her and what she made him feel. But damned if he’d walk away wondering if he’d left her in the middle of a vampire war. Swinging one arm back, he tossed his duffel toward the house and listened for the muffled thump when it landed. He’d pick it up later. When he came back.

For now, he’d had enough of close proximity to Tessa. He needed to be in the night. Where he belonged. Where he didn’t have to think about a human woman who was spending far too much time in his thoughts.

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