Rafe muttered his apology and something about her researching, and was up the stairs before she could answer. He breathed hard when he reached the safety of the landing, gripping the top pillar of the banister and fighting for control. His fully extended fangs scraped his lower lip. When had they come out? His stomach growled. He wasn’t hungry. He had taken blood only a few nights ago. It growled again, more urgently this time, and a dark craving swept through him, bringing with it a vision of Shannon entwined in his arms, her naked body against his and her throat beneath his lips.
He drew in a sharp breath, forced his fangs to recede and pushed that image away.
Maybe a cold shower was in order.
Rafe went into the bathroom, stripped his sweat pants off and walked straight into the shower cubicle, not bothering the close the bathroom door. He turned the water on as cold as it could get and stood under the jet, letting it hit his face and cascade down his body. The wound on the side of his head stung and ached, and his muscles cramped and protested about the chill. He didn’t care. Until the hunger burning inside him, the ardent desire to have Shannon as his woman, passed, he would stand where he was. Even if the water froze him.
The cold eventually drove the images from his mind, replacing them with a pulsing ache that emanated from the long cuts across the side of his head. Rafe grabbed the shower gel and thoroughly cleaned himself, paying close attention to the wounds. The soap stung but he didn’t care. He had put himself through worse pain to get a wound clean. Blood mixed with the water, and ran down his chest and left arm in red rivulets. He stared at them, mesmerised and lost in the temptation that flared back into life inside him. Shannon’s blood. He could still see it on her arm, drops of it that had escaped the cut and started to creep down towards her elbow. The desire to lick them up, to wrap his lips around the wound and suck deeply, crashed over him. His fangs extended again and he stepped backwards, out of the jet of water. He raised his hand, swept his fingers across the side of his head, and brought them away.
Scarlet bathed his fingertips. He licked his lips, swallowed to ease his dry throat, and then closed his eyes and ran his tongue across the blood. The taste was edgeless and flat, not the sweet metallic sharp tang that he craved. The smell of Shannon’s blood had promised him such a taste. She would be delicious, wonderful on his tongue. Not like his dead blood.
Rafe washed his hands and then the side of his head, and then turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle. He grabbed one of the small dark blue towels and pressed it against the wounds with one hand while he used a larger towel to dry himself. His cock twitched when he brushed it and he fought the images of Shannon that burst back into his head. He was in control, and he was not about to embarrass himself by walking downstairs and into the study with a raging erection.
With considerable effort, he forced his focus on to more important matters. Research.
He pulled his black sweat pants back on and walked downstairs, the small towel still pressed to the side of his head. He would have to keep it there for a while, until his healing ability had a chance to kick in to high gear. Blood trickled over his ear, creeping around the back of it and tickling. He wiped it up as he entered the study. Shannon turned to face him, a large book on her lap, and smiled.
“I think I found our goo monster.”
“What does it say?” Rafe noted that she had pulled the collar of the black bathrobe up to cover her neck again, and tried to hide the disappointment her lack of trust in him caused. He would never harm her. She didn’t have to fear him. He was in control. His fangs pushed. He held them back. He was in control.
He sat down on the seat to her right and she remained facing him, her eyes pinned to the towel he was holding against his head.
“Do you want me to look at it?” she said and placed the book down on the table. He shook his head. He would lose what shred of control he had if she started touching him. She had been through enough tonight. She pointed at his neck. “You’re bleeding.”
Rafe touched his throat and his fingers came away bloodied. He swallowed the temptation to lick them clean and wiped them on the towel instead. Shannon would run a mile if he drank blood in front of her, even his own. He didn’t want to scare her away.
“It will be fine in a minute or two.” He pulled the book towards him to distract him from the cool slide of blood beneath the towel. His body was already healing. He would be able to ditch the towel soon. His gaze scanned the book and the demon Shannon had found. It sounded like their man. He read on and relief washed through him when he found what he was looking for. He looked at Shannon. “It isn’t toxic.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Contrary to your belief, I can read.”
“I never said you could not read.”
She leaned back in the chair, pulled the bathrobe tight around her and cast her green gaze over the room. “I think you read too much. Clearly you have too much time on your hands.”
“Maybe I do...” He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes on her. “Maybe I need someone to help me fill the long hours of night.”
She turned her face away. “I thought hunting did that.”
“Not every night.” He ran his eyes over her, head to toe and back again. He could imagine so many ways that she could distract him from books and research. So many sweet hot ways.
Shannon toyed with the belt of the robe, flicking it back and forth, and then pulled another book towards her. She idly turned a few pages, sighed, and then turned the other way, looking towards the hall and the front door. What was she looking at? Besides anything but him. She swallowed and smiled.
“Did you hire an emo to decorate your house?”
Rafe cast his gaze over the black walls in the living room, the dark red furniture, and the stone candle holders on the black marble mantelpiece.
“No. I sometimes wonder if it was the agency’s idea of a joke.” He frowned at the decor and sighed.
“Oh.” Shannon’s wide eyes lit on him for a moment and then darted to the book. She flicked a few more pages and then frowned. “It’s not a very funny joke.”
When they had given him the keys to the house and he had first seen the horrendous way that the agency had decorated it, he had been tempted to change it, but he had never had the time. He had met Shannon shortly afterwards and had realised that it would take more than he was at that moment to protect her. He had focused on training instead, and reading every book he could buy or borrow.
All so he could protect her.
Shannon leaned forwards to look at the book and the right side of her robe fell away from her neck, slipping down her shoulder. Rafe stared at the pale column of her throat, his breathing turning sharp and harsh as he fought the urge to pull her close and lick her neck.
He forced his eyes away and they caught on something that hit him hard in the gut.
Scars.
On her neck.
He had never noticed marks there before, but then he couldn’t remember ever seeing her neck. Someone had bitten her. He frowned at ragged pink scars and heat burned in his chest, coiling into anger that ran through his veins and seized control of him.
He reached out to touch the scars.
Shannon smacked his hand away and jolted backwards, out of his reach, her chair scraping on the floor. She scowled at him, clinging to the bathrobe and quickly covering her throat. There was a frightened edge to her eyes. Fear that he might do that to her too, or that his touch might comfort her and force her to confront the feelings she denied so well?
“Who did that to you?” Black rage curled through him and his blood became flame as the desire to destroy swept over him. He wanted to find whoever had hurt her and obliterate them. He wanted them to suffer horror and pain one hundred times worse than they had put her through. He wanted them to die for daring to harm his beautiful Shannon.
She didn’t answer him.
Tears filled her eyes and she trembled.
She opened her mouth
, as though she might find her voice, and then bolted. She was out of the front door before he could even react. It swung on its hinges, letting cold air in that carried the scent of snow. He stood and reached the porch before he stopped himself and looked around. Her coat was gone and her trainers too.
Rafe took another step forwards, intent on following her, and then reined in that desire and stood on the porch instead, staring after her. She was long gone and going after her would only make things worse. She wouldn’t welcome his protection tonight, or his concern. As much as it pained him, went against every desire he had, he needed to give her space. He pictured the scars. Ragged. Deep. They hadn’t been done gently. Someone had attacked her. His fingers curled into tight fists.
His foot shifted forwards but he stopped himself again. It was no use. There was a stake in her jacket pocket with his name on it if he dared to track her down before she reached home. His gaze rose to take in the paling sky. Even if he waited for her to make it to her house, he still couldn’t go through with it. The sun would rise soon and he didn’t think she would give him shelter. He couldn’t risk it.
He had to let her go.
Tomorrow night, he would go to her house. He had the perfect excuse to be there. They still needed to find the demon and defeat it. The washing machine in the basement stopped running, leaving the house in silence. He had to return her clothes too.
Rafe went down into the basement and unloaded the machine. He stared at the pile of wet clothes in the white plastic basket and then reached down and plucked the red scrap of knickers from it. He held them up, his eyebrows rising at the sight, and groaned.
It was going to be difficult to sleep now.
Even he could have sleepless days when he had enough on his mind. It wasn’t just images of Shannon dancing around in only her underwear that was going to keep him awake though. It was the scars too. He had to know what had happened to her, because something told him that it was the reason she had joined the agency, and the reason she wanted all vampires, including himself, dead.
If he was going to have a shot at winning her heart, he had to get her to talk.
Right now, that felt more impossible than ever, but he wouldn’t give up.
He would find a way.
He had to.
He couldn’t live without her.
****
Chapter 4
Rafe took a deep breath, adjusted his appearance, checked the parcel of clothes he had neatly tied with string having dried and ironed them, and then knocked on Shannon’s door. His jaw ticked nervously. Minutes passed. No one answered.
The lights were on and he could hear her, feel her, in the house. Pretending not to be in wasn’t going to work when it was a vampire at your door.
He rapped his knuckles against the dark wood again and tried to see through the frosted glass panels.
She still didn’t answer.
He glanced up and raised an eyebrow. The mistletoe was gone. Probably his fault.
Rafe sighed and knocked harder. “Shannon, answer the door.”
“Go away.”
His senses placed her in the living room. He leaned back to see the windows. She had drawn the curtains. He drew another steadying breath and knocked again. He wasn’t going anywhere until he had spoken to her. He would keep knocking on her door until she got so annoyed that she answered just to shout at him. After his hundredth knock, a fuzzy shape appeared through the matt glass.
“I said, go away.”
“Open the door.”
“No. It’s Christmas Eve. I just want some peace on Earth for a change. So, go away. You’re disturbing the peace.”
Rafe moved closer to the door. Her dull shape moved backwards. She was distancing herself.
He could understand why. The revelation that she had been attacked by a vampire had given him a lot to think about today. He had cast his mind back over their two years together and her fragility, her reason for discarding her feelings for him, for keeping them hidden and pretending they didn’t exist, and her initial nerves around him, all made sense now. He couldn’t believe that the agency had paired her with him, a vampire, after she had been through so much because of one. They knew her history. He wished that he did too. That was why he had come here tonight. This was his last chance to break through the barrier around her heart and convince her to trust him.
“Haven’t you gone yet?” There was a snap in her tone.
“No.” Rafe wasn’t about to leave just because she had asked. He had never obeyed such a request in the past and he wasn’t going to start now.
A sense of fear laced the beating of her heart.
Was she afraid that he would hurt her? Hadn’t he proven himself worthy of her trust over the past two years they had worked together?
That hurt.
“What about goodwill towards all men?” It was a long shot.
She laughed. “You’re not a man. You’re a monster.”
That one really hurt.
Rafe ground his teeth and pressed his free hand to the door, trying to feel her on the other side and pinpoint her emotions. Her heart was racing, loud in his ears, speaking to his true nature and enticing it. He ignored the temptation and desire to hunt her, and instead reached further, deeper, until he could pick out the tangled threads of her feelings. The past two years had helped him grow attuned to her. He had catalogued her feelings whenever he’d had the chance, separating them out when she gave clear indications of what emotion she was feeling, so at a time like this he could read her like a book written in large neon letters.
She didn’t believe what she had said. He told it to his heart repeatedly so it would stop aching. It was just a reaction to her emotions. They were strong, conflicted, and were causing her to push him away because she didn’t want to deal with them or didn’t know how to.
“I am not a monster, Shannon.” Rafe closed his eyes and locked on to the two feelings that were strongest. Fear. No surprise there. The other eluded him. Softer emotions were difficult for vampires to grasp. Was she feeling something like that? Love, hope, affection? What was it that kept her standing on the other side of the door, giving him time to talk to her, to convince her to do as he wanted? He sighed and lowered his voice, letting his emotions flood it so she would know the truth in his words. “I promise you, Shannon, whatever happened to you, whatever that vampire did, I would never do anything to hurt you. I am not that sort of man. Can’t you see that? Don’t you know that in your heart?”
She didn’t answer. He stood there in silence, waiting for her to turn on him, to blame him for what had happened to her before they had even met, or to tell him that he was wrong and she did think he was a beast after her blood.
Her fuzzy shape moved and she turned and leaned against the door. He moved his hand, placing it against the wood on the other side of the door to her, so he could feel her emotions more clearly. She sighed and tilted her head back, resting it against the glass. He could feel the war in her, the emotions raging through the wood into his hand, and could hear the battle in her heart.
He needed to know what had happened to her. He wanted to understand her pain and fear, so he could find a way to open her eyes to her feelings and show her that it was alright to be with him, because he would never hurt her. Her words tore at his heart and doubt firmly plunged its claws into his mind.
“Please, Shannon,” he whispered and leaned his right side on the door near to her. He rested his forehead against the glass. “Tell me you do not believe I am a monster.”
“Isn’t that why you’re with the agency? Because you’re a monster?”
His heart sunk into his feet.
“True. Perhaps I was a monster once, but not anymore. I am older now, and wiser. I no longer feed like that. I have the strength to only take what I need and they give it willingly.”
“And then you steal their memories.”
He conceded that point. It was something all vampires did if they were going to leave their
victim alive. It stopped them from realising that creatures like him existed and protected his species.
“Like the vampire did to you?” he said.
She turned sharply. Her pulse spiked. “How did you know that? Did the agency tell you? You spoke to them, didn’t you? You know all about what happened to me and now you’re here trying to make everything better, defending your kind.”
“Never.” His restraint snapped and he growled the word. She backed away from the door again and her shape appeared on the dark blur he knew was the stairs. She looked so small, and felt so fragile. His arms ached to be around her, to hold her close and protect her. He needed to comfort her, to give all his love to her and receive something other than hatred in return. “I would never defend the bastard that did that to you... and I did not speak with the agency.”
She raised her head. “You didn’t?”
“No, Shannon. I did not. I came here tonight to speak to you about it. I want to know what happened to you, but I don’t want to hear it from them. I asked them once, when we first started working together, but they would not tell me… and things are different now.” He traced the grain of wood on the door and stared at his fingers. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The hard edge to her voice warned him not to push her on the subject. Rafe relented and held her clothes up instead, so she could see the colour and shape of them through the glass.
“Do you want these back?”
“Leave them on the porch.” Not quite the response he had anticipated.
“There is still a mission to finish, Shannon.” It was cruel to play on her loyalty to her duty when she clearly wasn’t feeling up to hunting with him, but he needed to get her out of the house, or at least he needed to get into the house. He would settle for just having the door open so he could see her and could read in her eyes that she was alright, and that she didn’t believe that he was a monster capable of hurting her as the other vampire had. “We need to kill this demon.”
Vampire for Christmas Page 4
