SHE STARED AT HIM a moment longer before reality seemed to sink in and her eyes went wide. Fear rushed through her and blazed bright in her eyes. Suddenly, Brent forgot all about love and falling.
She’d seen him.
Holy shit, she’d seen him.
But he had an even bigger problem. His hunger stirred. His gut twisted and his body shook. He needed a drink. He needed her.
The truth pounded through his head and sent a rush of panic through him. He broke the contact between them, scrambling away. He stumbled to his feet and staggered backwards. His back came up hard against the opposite wall and he heard the crack of plaster. His stomach clenched and his muscles contorted. His mouth watered and his fangs ached. His gaze riveted on her lush body and an invisible hand tightened around him and squeezed.
Abby watched as Brent’s eyes blazed a bright, furious red. His teeth pulled back and his fangs glittered and for a split-second, she wanted to rush over to him and give him what he so obviously needed. Blood.
Her blood.
Denial rushed through her, along with fear. Not the fear of him, but of herself, her reaction. Because for a split second, against the better judgment she’d honed for months in the field, she’d wanted to help him. To reach out. To offer herself.
She still did.
She rushed hell for leather for the bathroom and tried to ignore the ridiculous notion. The door slammed and she flipped the lock.
He was a vampire.
A real, honest-to-goodness vampire.
She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Even now, she wasn’t one hundred percent certain and her mind raced for a more plausible explanation. The margaritas. She’d had almost three. Translation? She was drunk. Hallucinating. That had to be it.
Why, this entire night was probably just a bad dream. A crazy nightmare wrought from too much alcohol and a lifetime of deprivation when it came to her sexuality. She’d buried her desires far too long and now everything was rushing to the surface, making her punchy and distorting her sense of reality.
That’s what it was.
A nightmare.
One she would wake up from all too soon.
“We need to talk.” His deep voice slid into her ears, pulling her back to reality and nailing home the truth—this wasn’t her imagination. She felt the bare tile beneath her feet, the anxiety pressing down on her. “Please,” he added.
So much desperation filled the one word and she almost opened the door. It wasn’t a dream. Just a big misunderstanding. There were no such things as vampires. She was having a hallucination. A margarita induced hallucination. The next thing she knew, she would be seeing little green men in sombreros.
“I know this is a lot to grasp.”
The air lodged in her chest as shock beat at her already numb brain. She rushed to the sink. Flipping on the faucet, she plunged her hands beneath the cool water and splashed some onto her face, as if she could wash away the images that rolled through her head.
“You’re not a vampire,” she heard herself say. “There’s no such thing.”
“There is,” he said after a long moment, as if the words were as hard to say as they were for her to hear. “I know it seems crazy, but it’s true.”
“A vampire? A real vampire?” She knew she sounded like a raving lunatic repeating herself, but she couldn’t help it. She was trying to grasp the impossible and her brain just didn’t want to accept it. “Vampires don’t exist. Only on TV and in books. Not in real life.”
“We exist,” he said quietly. “I’m not allergic to garlic and crosses don’t bother me, but I’m still a vampire. My senses are heightened and I can do things that most men only dream about. I’m strong and I can hear things. And when I look into someone’s eyes I can see what they’re thinking, too. Usually…” His voice trailed off for a long moment. “But not with you. For some reason, I can’t see into your thoughts. Just the occasional glimpse. You’re strong, Abby.”
Which explained why she was cowering in the bathroom and clutching the edges of the sink like an idiot.
“I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re different. Special.”
It was an admission she’d hoped to hear her entire life. And while the circumstance wasn’t one she would have predicted, a rush of satisfaction went through her anyway.
“You’re smart and beautiful.”
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and noted the flush to her cheeks. The sparkle in her eyes. She was different now. She felt it from the tips of her toes to her fingers.
“What did you do to me?”
“Nothing. It’s just great sex. That’s another perk of being a vampire. I’m pretty good in the sack.”
“What else?” she heard herself. This was crazy. She should be crawling out the nearest window and running for help instead of playing twenty questions.
“I can see myself in a mirror like everyone else,” he went on. “But that thing about bats is a myth. I can transform into other things if I want to, but it’s usually more trouble than it’s worth. I can levitate. And I have fangs.”
Because he was a vampire. A night stalking, blood-drinking vampire.
Her memory raced and suddenly everything started to make sense. The sudden change of his eye color. The way he moved so swiftly and silently. His sudden appearance in her room that first night. His dark good looks and the dangerous pull that seemed to lure her closer against her better judgment.
An image rushed at her and she saw him, his fangs poised, his eyes glowing.
“You were going to bite me, weren’t you?”
“I wanted to. I wanted it more than anything, but I wouldn’t have done it. I didn’t have to. I’d already fed.”
“On who?”
“On you, Abby. Vampires don’t just feed off of blood. We also crave energy. Sexual energy. Your orgasm fed me enough to curb my bloodlust.” Silence settled as she tried to process everything he was saying. “Open the door. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
She wasn’t sure why she believed him except that he’d had plenty of chances to turn her into a human Happy Meal if he’d wanted. The fact that he hadn’t echoed through her and suddenly she wanted to flip the lock more than she wanted her next breath.
She wanted to know the truth about him. How long he’d been a vampire, who had turned him and why. She wanted to know everything and that need stirred her fear even more than the fact that he had actual fangs.
It was just sex, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to know his background. His life. Him.
She just wanted a few wonderful memories to tide her over for the rest of her orderly, routine life.
Emotion push-pulled inside her and she shook her head frantically. This was too much. It was time to stop right now before she did the unthinkable.
She wasn’t falling for him. She wasn’t falling for anyone, man or vampire.
Never, ever again.
“Get out of here.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Get out right now before I call the cops.”
Silence followed for several long seconds, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. He shouldn’t have. She was bluffing, the same way she’d done time and time again on mission after mission. She knew how to persuade people. To survive.
That’s what this was about. Survival. Of her body. Her heart.
Oh, no.
Panic rushed through her and the words tumbled out. “If you don’t get out of here, I’m going to scream bloody murder. I mean it.”
The thud of a door punctuated her sentence, and just like that he was gone.
She stood there for several long moments listening to the pounding of her own heart before she finally slid the lock aside. Sure enough, the bedroom was empty and a strange sense of loneliness swept over her.
She snatched up her clothes which lay in a heap where she’d left them. Her gaze shifted to Brent’s T-shirt that still lay draped over the back of a nearby chair. Before she could stop herself, she reached for the soft cotton and slid it over her head. His scent filled her nostrils and she had the disturbing thought that she’d just lost the one thing that mattered most.
Nuts.
She hardly knew him. And he hardly knew her. They were virtual strangers.
So why did she feel so empty inside?
The question haunted her as she picked her way around the room, snatching up clothing and straightening the covers. Finally when there was nothing left to spend her energy on, she crawled into bed and burrowed beneath the covers.
And then, for the first time since she’d skinned her knee so very long ago, Abby Trenton started to cry.