Her mother and father glanced up.
“Sara!” Her mother sprang to her feet and hurried forward to give her daughter a hug. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Lucy,” she called, “fix a plate for Sara.”
Her father rose more slowly, his brow furrowed. “Is everything all right?” he asked, stepping in to give her a hug.
“I had a bit of a problem,” she said when he released her.
“Well, sit down and tell us all about it,” her mother said.
Sara took her customary place at the table, smiled her thanks as Lucy set a plate and a glass of iced tea in front of her. “I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually a good place,” her father suggested.
“I was doing really well,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “It was a small town, but the tourist trade helped. But a few days ago a gang of … of ruffians invaded Susandale. They burned the town to the ground, including my shop and the house I was renting. They torched my car.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “So I came home.”
“I’m so sorry,” her mother said. “At least you weren’t hurt.”
Sara nodded.
“The things you lost are easy enough to replace,” her father said.
“Yes.” Sara looked down at her plate. Dresses and shoes, even her wallet and her phone, they were just things with little sentimental value. She could buy dozens of new clothes to replace what the vampires had destroyed. If only it would be as easy to fill the empty place in her heart.
Pleading a headache, Sara excused herself from the table after lunch and went up to her room. She had to admit, she had missed it. Built-in bookcases stood on both sides of an antique four-poster bed. A matching dresser stood against one wall. A large window looked out over the backyard, which was lush and green. A white gazebo stood in one corner of the yard. Her mother’s rose garden took up a good portion of the east side. A number of wrought iron benches were placed here and there inside the garden.
Kicking off her shoes, Sara sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts on Travis.
Had she made a mistake in leaving him without a word? And yet, what was there to say?
He was a vampire and as much as she cared for him, as much as she already missed him, she just didn’t see how they could possibly have any kind of a lasting future together.
She thought about Shannah and Ronan. They seemed happy, but how long would that relationship have lasted if Ronan hadn’t turned her?
And then there was Olivia Bowman, hiding out in a small town with her children and vampire husband. That was no kind of life, either, always living in fear that hunters would find your husband or that your kids would let the truth about Jason slip. She didn’t understand how Olivia had stayed with Jason, knowing what he was doing to the innocent men, women, and children who passed through Susandale.
Her tears came them, stinging her eyes, burning her throat, as she wept for Travis and what might have been if he had never hunted Ronan.
She dried her eyes with the corner of her bedspread when someone knocked at the door.
“Sara? Honey? It’s Mom. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
“What is it, hon?” Donna Winters asked, sitting beside her daughter. “I was on my way to my room when I heard you crying.”
“Just feeling sorry for myself, I guess,” Sara said, dabbing at her eyes again.
“You’re not crying because of losing the store, are you?”
“No,” she said, sniffling. “I met a man in Susandale.”
Donna Winters nodded as she handed Sara one of the small white handkerchiefs she always carried. “And you liked him?”
Sara nodded as she wiped her eyes.
“Tell me about him.”
What to say? Sara wondered. The truth was out of the question. “He was just a really nice guy. Easy to talk to. He had a crooked smile and … and he needed me.”
“I see. Does he have a name?”
“Travis.” Sara looked out the window. A wayward breeze moved among the leaves of the trees. She heard the distant hum of a lawnmower, the slam of a car door, the exuberant laughter of a child. Ordinary sounds in an ordinary town. Every day background noises that had been missing in Susandale.
“And does he care for you, too?”
“Yes.”
“So …?”
“He’s not the kind of man I want to marry.” Fresh tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “He’s a wanderer, with no home and no job.”
“But you love him anyway.”
And that was the problem, Sara thought. She did love him.
Chapter 30
Travis woke with the setting of the sun. Knowing that Ronan had gone home left him with a peculiar emptiness inside, which he thought was almighty strange considering there was no love lost between them. And yet … it had felt right to be with his sire. It was a feeling he intended to examine more closely at some other time. Right now, he needed to see Sara, to know she was safe.
He had spent the night in the hospital morgue. Located in the basement, it had escaped the worst of the fire. He washed in one of the sinks, then willed himself to Winona’s house.
At his knock, she answered the door. “Come on in, Travis.”
He puzzled over the blank expression on her face as he followed her into the living room.
Overstreet sat on the sofa wearing the same impassive expression.
Travis was about to ask what was wrong, but it wasn’t necessary. Without asking, he knew that Sara wasn’t in the house. Nor was she anywhere in town.
“She went home,” Carl said. “I drove her to the airport this morning. Lucky for me, when the vamps were burning everything, they missed my truck.”
Travis dropped into an easy chair covered in a blue-and-brown plaid. “Did she leave anything for me? A note? A message?”
Overstreet shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Travis nodded. When he’d left Sara last night, he had fully intended to walk out of her life and never look back. They had no future together. Apparently, she had come to the same conclusion. He couldn’t blame her for leaving town. There was nothing for her here now. No doubt she had gone back home to settle down with Dilmount or whatever the hell his name was.
Jealousy rose inside him like bile, leaving a nasty taste in his mouth and the urge to kill any other man who would dare touch her.
“Travis?” Carl shot a worried glance at Winona as a wave of preternatural power flooded the room. “Hey, Travis? You okay?”
Hands clenched, he nodded. She was better off without him. He wished he could say he was better off without her, but he feared that, without her sweet influence in his life, he might someday become the kind of remorseless monster he had once hunted.
Sara spent her first two days at home shopping for new clothes, shoes, a handbag, and a new cell phone. She went to the DMV and reported that her driver’s license had been lost and requested a new one, then spent two hours on the phone with the company she had leased her car from trying to explain what had happened to it. They seemed reluctant to believe someone had set it on fire but said they would send someone to pick it up. She learned her house in Susandale had belonged to the vampire community, so she didn’t have to worry about notifying anyone about its loss.
She spent her evenings at home with her mom and dad.
Her parents didn’t waste any time spreading the word that their daughter was home again. By the end of the week, her mother had put together a welcome home party for the following Saturday night and invited all of Sara’s friends. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to. Her mother seemed to think a party was just what Sara needed to chase the blues away. She huffed a sigh. Why couldn’t her mother understand that she just wanted some time alone?
Time to think.
Time to forget.
It was only at night, when Sara was alone in her room, that she let herself think about Travis, remembering the
color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the way it had felt so right to be in his arms, the touch of his lips on hers. She hadn’t known him very long, or very well. How could she miss him so desperately when so much of their time together had been anything but normal?
Going to her bedroom window, she stared out into the darkness. Had Travis stayed in Susandale? Had she done the right thing in leaving him without a word? Would saying goodbye have made it easier for both of them?
Harder?
Or just impossible?
Saturday night came all too soon. The backyard looked like a fairyland. Colorful paper lanterns were strung around the yard. Her mother had hired her favorite caterer, along with a DJ. Round tables covered with crisp white linen cloths had been set up on the patio. A long table held drinks – everything from lemonade and soda, to mixed drinks and champagne. Another table held finger foods and desserts—individual pies, cupcakes, cream puffs, strawberry tarts, various meats and cheese.
Sara stood in front of the mirror in her room, trying to summon a modicum of excitement and failing badly. She brushed her hair, applied a bit of blush and her lipstick, took a deep breath and went downstairs to help greet her guests.
Travis stood in the deep shadows in a far corner of Sara’s backyard. Perhaps fifty people of various ages milled around the covered patio. Dinner was over and couples danced on the patio, or clustered in small groups, talking and laughing.
But he had eyes only for Sara. Wearing a yellow and white sundress, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, she looked more beautiful than ever. And so at home. She stood in the center of a group of young adults, mostly male, all vying for her attention. He had no trouble picking out Dilworth. Tall, blond, and athletic, the man stuck to Sara’s side like a cocklebur.
When the DJ pulled up a ballad, Dilworth led Sara onto the patio. Travis’ hands knotted at his sides when the man took her in his arms. They looked good together, both young and glowing with good health, their whole lives ahead of them.
For a moment he hated them. Both of them. Hated Ronan for stealing his mortality. Hated himself for falling in love with Sara, for letting himself hope they could have a life together when he had known from the start that it was impossible.
Sick at heart, he murmured her name. As if she had heard him, she glanced over her shoulder in his direction. And then, to his astonishment, he heard her voice in his mind, whispering his name.
He frowned, wondering how that was possible. He had taken her blood and that enabled him to read her thoughts, but she had never taken his. He hadn’t been reading her mind and yet she had sent her thoughts to him. His frown deepened. She had taken Ronan’s blood. And Ronan was his sire. Had that somehow created a two-way link between himself and Sara?
“Did you say something?” Dilworth asked.
“What?” Sara pulled her gaze from the far corner of the yard. She must be losing her mind, she thought, imagining that Travis was nearby. And yet she had heard his voice in her mind as clearly as if he had whispered in her ear. She hadn’t imagined that.
“I asked if you said something.”
“Oh, it was nothing. I’m thirsty. Let’s go get a drink, shall we?”
It was after midnight when the party broke up. As Sara had feared, Dilworth was the last to leave. They sat on the front porch swing watching the last of the guests drive away.
“Alone at last,” he murmured, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
She forced a smile as she tried desperately to think of a tactful way to tell him to go home. Sadly, nothing came to mind.
“You know I’m crazy about you, don’t you?” His hand cupped her nape, gently drawing her toward him. “It would make our families very happy if you’d say yes.”
Their families had been friends since before she was born. Her parents had always expected her to marry him. She looked up at Dil, searching for the right words, when his mouth descended on hers.
It was a very nice kiss. Proof, she supposed, that he had done it many times. She didn’t know how it affected the others, but she found herself thinking of Travis and how his kisses made her insides curl with pleasure.
Dilworth lifted his head, his gaze searching hers. “There’s no hope for us, is there?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Yes. No.”
“What is it? Yes or no?”
“There’s someone else, but it doesn’t matter. We can’t be together.”
“Then don’t shut me out, Sara. I know I could make you happy if you’d just give me half a chance.”
Sighing, she gazed into the darkness. Why not? she thought. Dilworth was pleasant company. They had the same background, the same friends. She could think of worse ways to spend her life. And who knew? Maybe, given enough time, she might even learn to love him.
Swearing under his breath, Travis transported himself to another part of the city, afraid if he stayed in the shadows beside the porch any longer, he might do something rash, like throw himself at Sara’s feet and beg her to love him.
Chapter 31
Jason Bowman left his lair, his thoughts churning, his anger rising as he viewed the destruction of the town. They’d had a good thing going here, until Travis and that nosey writer showed up. Now the town was in ruins, Jarick was dead, his coven had scattered, and he was alone. True, Ronan had destroyed Jarick, but it was Travis and the writer who had set everything else in motion. He should have killed them both long ago.
Olivia had told him in no uncertain terms that she’d had enough. She wanted to pack up their belongings and re-locate to the West Coast to be near her parents.
Jason snorted. He had no intention of moving closer to her family. Living among humans was exhausting, always pretending to be what he wasn’t, always fighting the urge to sink his fangs into warm, tender flesh. Here, in Susandale, he hadn’t had to hide what he was. He’d been free to feed when and how he pleased.
With the need for revenge burning hot within him, he stormed out into the night. He didn’t know where to find Ronan or Travis or that troublesome woman who’d run the bath shop, but the writer was right down the street, tucked into bed with Winona.
Carl Overstreet bolted upright as the bedroom door swung open.
“What is it?” Winona asked, her voice thick with sleep.
Frozen with fear, Carl couldn’t answer. He could only stare at the ominous shape stalking toward him, eyes glowing red in the darkness.
Sensing his alarm, Winona sat up, only to let out a terrified cry as the intruder picked her up and threw her across the room.
“No!” Carl screamed the word, but it emerged from his throat as a hoarse whisper as the vampire pushed him down on the mattress and sank his fangs into the side of his neck.
Carl pummeled the creature’s back as he writhed beneath the vampire. In a dim part of his mind, he thought, so, this is what it’s like to be prey.
He knew a moment of relief when the vampire lifted his head, watched in horror as the vampire bit into his own wrist. Bowman’s next words quickly killed that brief moment of hope.
“Drink!”
Sheer terror engulfed Overstreet as the vampire forced his mouth open and compelled him to drink. And drink. And drink.
“You think you have a right to judge me and the way I live?” the vampire snarled. “Let’s see how you like it.”
Carl stared at the creature that was now his sire until a wave of darkness swallowed him whole.
He woke with a start, something he rarely did. The room was pitch black, yet he saw everything clearly. He knew he was in Winona’s bedroom and that she was in the house. The pounding of her heart rang loud and clear in his ears, giving rise to an excruciating pain that exploded inside him. For a moment, he thought he was dying.
And then he remembered he had died last night. And the agony burning in his veins was a need for blood.
He found Winona in the living room. She had turned on every li
ght in the house and now she sat in a chair, her back to the wall, a stout wooden stake in one hand, a bottle he suspected held holy water in the other.
Carl stood in the doorway, well out of reach. “I thought you’d be gone.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“How’d Bowman get in last night? I thought vampires needed an invitation?”
“Usually. But all the houses belong to the vampires.”
His nostrils flared as the scent of her blood called to him. “You aren’t safe with me.”
“Maybe you aren’t safe with me.”
“You’ve given me many a meal since first we met,” he said with a wry grin. “But I’ve never been hungrier than I am now. Or more in need.”
Head tilted to one side, she regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do I know you’ll stop feeding before my heart stops beating?
“You don’t trust me?”
“Do I look crazy to you? I’ve been living among vampires for years. There’s nothing more unpredictable than a hungry fledgling.”
Carl groaned low in his throat. “Winona, please.”
“All right. But I’m holding the stake against your heart and if you don’t stop when I tell you to, you’ll be a dead fledgling.”
He groaned again. “Anything you want.”
She held out her arm, palm up. “Not my neck.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her, too desperate to argue. The scent of her blood called to him, over-riding his disgust at what he was doing. But he wasn’t human anymore and one taste quickly changed disgust into pleasure. He closed his eyes, savoring the warm, salty taste on his tongue as if it was the sweetest nectar.
Which it was.
Only the slight pain of the stake’s point piercing his skin made him stop. He ran his tongue over the wounds in her wrist, watched in amazement as the tiny punctures healed in seconds.
Muttering, “I’m sorry,” he stood and backed away from her.
Dark of the Moon Page 17
