Shannah let her mind merge with the young man’s, then imposed her will on his. “Not now,”
she said, taking him by the hand. “Come with me, won’t you?”
“Go with you, yes.”
Filled with a sense of power unlike anything she had ever known, she led the young man outside and then around the corner of the building.
Ronan followed the two of them into the shadows under the building’s overhang.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Follow your instincts.”
“How will I know when to stop? I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You’ll know. When you’ve finishing feeding, lick the wound to close it.”
Shannah stared at Ronan a moment, thinking she should be repulsed by what she was about to do. Instead, she felt a kind of nervous excitement, sort of like the first time she had held a glass of champagne in her hand. She looked at the young man, her gaze drawn to the pulse steadily beating in the hollow of his throat. Her mouth watered. The hunger soared within her, throbbing to the beat of his heart, as if in anticipation of being sated. She brushed her hand over the side of the young man’s neck, then lowered her head and followed her instincts, as Ronan had suggested.
It wasn’t repulsive. It wasn’t disgusting. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She took what she needed, then, looking up at Ronan, she licked her lips. “I did it.” The hunger had receded, leaving behind a sense of serenity and euphoria.
He smiled at her. “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”
“No.” She smiled back at him, her eyes glowing. “It was like…I don’t know, like I’ve been doing it all my life.”
He stifled the urge to say, “I told you so.”
“Now what do I do with him?”
“Speak to his mind again. Tell him to go back into the club and forget everything that just happened.”
“And he’ll do it?”
Ronan nodded.
“Will I have a bond with him now, like the one you and…will I have a bond with him?”
“No. That only happens if he drinks your blood in return.”
She did as Ronan had said, watched in amazement as the man walked away from her without a backward glance.
“So, that’s all there is to it?” Shannah asked incredulously. “I just call them to me?”
“That’s it.”
“And they’ll do whatever I ask?”
He nodded. “Shall we go?”
Side by side, they walked down the street, away from the night clubs.
“Where did you sleep last night?” he asked as they neared the house.
“In the basement.”
He looked at her, one brow arched.
“No,” she said, “not in your coffin. I just couldn’t. I slept on the mattress on the floor.”
He nodded. Tomorrow night he would carry the frame down so that she didn’t have to sleep on the floor, unless it occurred to her to do it herself. With her preternatural strength, she could easily carry the frame and headboard into the basement. He didn’t tell her, though. He wanted to do it for her.
She stopped when they reached the porch. “Thank you for your help tonight,” she said, her voice again cool and polite. And distant.
He took it for the dismissal it was, bowed his head in her direction, and vanished from her sight.
Shannah stared after him, the ache in her heart almost beyond bearing.
He arrived on her doorstep, unsummoned, the following night. “May I come in?”
She shrugged. “It’s your house.”
He smiled faintly. “I gave it to you, remember?”
“Does that mean you can’t come in here unless you’re invited now?”
He nodded.
“How does that work, exactly? I mean, what is there to keep you out?”
“The threshold of the house. Thresholds have a supernatural power of their own created by the emotions of those who live within the walls. It can be painful, even fatal, for a vampire to cross one without the owner’s permission.”
“All thresholds?”
“No, just residences.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then took a step backward, allowing him access. “Come in.”
He followed her into the living room.
“What brings you here tonight?” she asked.
“I thought I’d move the bed frame and headboard into the basement, if it’s all right with you.”
“Oh.” She wondered why she hadn’t thought of doing it herself. She started to tell him there was no need, but feared that if she did so, he would leave. And she didn’t want him to go. She told herself the only reason she didn’t want him to leave was because it was lonely, rattling around in the big old house by herself, and because he was the only one who knew what she had become and didn’t care. She recognized both reasons for the lies they were, but she couldn’t admit the truth, not to herself, not to him. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
She followed him up the stairs, watched the play of muscles in his arms, back and shoulders with feminine appreciation as he dismantled the frame, stacked the pieces one on top of the other, and carried the lot down the stairs to the basement, where he quickly reassembled the thing, then lifted the box spring and mattress into place. The headboard came next.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.
“No. I was wondering about your books and your other personal effects. Should I pack them for you?”
“Keep it all or throw it out, whatever you wish.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Do you have any other questions? Anything else you want to know about your new lifestyle?”
She couldn’t think of any, nor could she tear her gaze away from his. He loved her. She could see it in his eyes. There was a lingering hurt there, too, and an aching loneliness that was like a physical pain. She felt it as if it were her own, knew how and what he was feeling because she felt the same way. Without Ronan, she felt empty inside, as if a vital part of her very being had been ruthlessly torn out. Was it love that made her feel that way, or merely the blood bond he had forged between them? Was it possible to even separate the two?
Did she really have any reason to be angry with him? He had only given her what she had come looking for. True, he had made her a vampire against her will, but he had done so because he knew she didn’t want to die. Because he didn’t want her to die. Because he loved her. Would she rather be dead now, never to see him again? True, she had lost much when he brought her across, but she had also gained much. It was all so confusing!