Well, since she doubted that she could feel any worse…Miranda took the offered drink and downed the fiery contents in two deep gulps.
When she handed him the glass back, her hands weren’t shaking any longer, but her gut seemed to be on fire.
He smiled at her and damn if the man didn’t have the sexiest dimple she’d ever seen along his right cheek.
Get a grip. You’re running on adrenaline and fumes right now. Stop lusting after the man next door.
Cain set the glasses down with a soft clink on a nearby table.
Miranda exhaled slowly. “I, um, didn’t get a chance to thank you before.” When Sam had appeared with his sirens wailing, there’d been no time at all to speak privately with Cain. It had been a mad rush of explanations, searches, and general chaos.
No, there’d been no time to thank Cain for saving her life. And there’d been no time to ask if he truly thought Paul Roberts was a vampire.
And what about Cain? For a while there, he’d been sporting teeth a hell of a lot sharper than the ones he showed now.
Hadn’t he? She rubbed her brow, suddenly confused.
“You don’t have to thank me.” A deep rumble of sound, almost like a growl.
The man had the deepest, roughest voice she’d ever heard. One that made her toes curl and her thighs quiver.
Down, girl.
Her hormones were going crazy and her mind was turning into mush. Had to be the excitement of the night.
“I did what any man would have done.”
She shook her head at that. “Uh, no.” Miranda could still see the men locked in brutal combat. “I don’t know many guys who would have kicked down a door to save me.”
He caught her hand. Brought her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. “Then you don’t know the right kind of men.”
Oh, damn. Now her knees were shaking. And was he staring at her with hunger in those golden eyes?
He kissed her hand again, and for a second, she felt the warm brush of his tongue against her fingers. Miranda tensed. “I—I should be going to bed.” Alone. Because while her hormones might be jumping on the adrenaline party, she wasn’t about to go falling into bed with her neighbor. Even if he had quite probably saved her life.
And even if he was sexy as all hell.
And even if just the sight of him did have her whole body tightening with arousal.
She pulled her hand away from Cain’s warm grasp and stepped toward the guest bedroom he’d shown her earlier.
“If that’s what you want…” The words were soft.
For an instant, she imagined him following her into that dark room and stripping.
Miranda swallowed, felt the faint sting along her throat. “Thank you, Cain. Really.” Her fingers wrapped around the doorframe.
He gave a faint nod.
Miranda turned away from him, stepping over the threshold.
“Just got one quick question for you, baby,” he murmured, and the floor squeaked beneath his feet.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she waited.
His dark brows pulled down low over his eyes. “Why the hell were you out with a vampire?”
Her jaw dropped open. Again with the vampire talk.
“Those bastards are sick. You can’t trust them, not one damn bit. Parasites. And they all fucking smell like the grave.”
Her head shook, although she wasn’t sure if she was denying his words or her own fears. “Paul isn’t a—a vampire.” There had to be another explanation for what happened. Because vampires weren’t real. They were on TV. In the movies. In books. But they weren’t real.
Some sicko with a blood fetish had attacked her. Simple as that. No vampire. No monster. No—
“Bullshit. That jerkoff was undead, and if I hadn’t gotten to you, he would have drained you dry in less than five minutes.”
Not a good image.
“Y—you’re wrong—”
“Oh, he would have. I’ve seen the bodies his kind leave behind.”
He was just trying to scare her.
And it’s working. “Vampires don’t exist.” Said with more certainty than she currently felt. The wounds on her neck seemed to burn.
Cain stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “Baby, just what do you think happened tonight?”
“I was attacked.” Her shoulders straightened. “By someone very, very sick.” She didn’t want to think about the rest just then. Didn’t want to think about the white flash of Cain’s teeth or that terrible moment when she could have sworn that his nails lengthened into claws.
Because that couldn’t have happened. Could. Not. She’d been stressed. Things had been moving fast. She’d been confused and—
And she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Miranda knew she was scared.
Maybe staying with Cain hadn’t been the best idea.
Sanity had decided to raise its annoying head too late.
Cain growled. Stepped toward her. “That’s the way you’re gonna play it, huh?”
“I’m not playing anything.” The words sounded false. Miranda had the sudden, stark feeling that she was standing on a precipice. And if she moved, if she stepped forward and saw what waited over that deadly edge, she’d fall and her life would change. Forever.
Cain’s eyes were on her. Seeing far too much. “There’s something I need to show you.” Then he grabbed her hands and all but jerked her back into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” She tried to dig in her heels but the man was strong. Crazy strong. Miranda remembered the almost effortless way he’d tossed Paul across the room. Uh-oh. Okay, so she hadn’t imagined that part of the night.
He shoved open a white door. Stepped inside a bathroom. He freed her hands and hit the light switch, then he pushed her in front of the mirror. Cain caught her hair and pulled it back, exposing the savaged column of her throat. “Take a long, hard look.”
She did. Scratches. Mottled skin.
And two tiny puncture wounds.
Her hands flattened against the sink and she rocked forward, straining to get a better view. She’d expected to see the imprint of a man’s teeth. This was—
Oh, God, what the hell was this?
Two puncture wounds. Deep. Spaced about an inch and a half apart.
Just like a vampire bite in the movies.
He’d had fangs. Two-inch-long fangs.
She closed her eyes a moment. Saw that damn precipice again. Then felt her body being shoved right over the edge.
“Still think vampires don’t exist?” Cain asked, his breath feathering over her right ear. Her eyes opened and met his in the mirror.
“They aren’t supposed to be real,” she whispered and felt a desperate pounding in her temples. Would this night never end? Cain’s scent—man, slightly woodsy—wrapped around her. For a moment, she was tempted to lean back against him. To let her body melt into his.
Then he spoke. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a news flash for you. Vampires aren’t the only creatures running around on this earth that ‘aren’t supposed to be real.’”
“I—I can’t deal with this.” She needed to think. A vampire. A real blood-sucking, creature-of-the-night vampire. And she’d picked him off the Internet for a date.
Her luck just sucked. Strike three for her in the romance department.
Miranda turned and stared up at Cain’s hard features.
Good-looking, yes. Undeniably so. Sexy. With those gleaming eyes and that sinful mouth. But there was power there, too. In the lines of his face. In the strong brow, the square jaw.
His head lowered toward hers.
Her lips parted.
“You didn’t know what he was, did you?”
“No.” A whisper.
“A lamb to the slaughter,” he muttered and his mouth tightened.
“What?”
His hands wrapped around her upper arms. She was pinned between him and the bathroom counter. He stepped closer, bringing his body
flush against hers.
His aroused body. Miranda sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the heat of his erection pressing against her.
“You have to be more careful.” His body felt good against hers. Right. His voice was soft when he said, “You never know what’s out there, just waiting to take a bite out of you.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “And you are so damn tempting.”
“Cain—”
His lips took hers. The kiss was hot, wild. His tongue pushed past the entrance of her mouth, thrust against hers. She responded instantly, heat flaring through her body as her tongue met his.
He lifted her, settling her along the edge of the countertop, then his hands were on her thighs.
And still he kissed her. Tasted her.
His fingers curled around her thighs. Her sex began to quiver and her mouth became more demanding against his.
He spread her legs with his grip. Settled his hips in the cradle of her body, and Miranda arched toward him, feeling the hard length of his jeans-covered cock against her sex.
Talk about a temptation.
She wondered what it would be like to strip those jeans off him. To yank off her own pants and underwear. Flesh to flesh. Sex to sex.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
Cain ripped his mouth from hers. Stared down at her with blazing eyes. “I can smell your desire.”
What? Was he—
“Your scent is fucking driving me wild….” He kissed her again. Harder. With need and with a stark possession.
Her breasts pushed against his chest. The nipples were tight, pebble-hard. She wanted his hands on them. His mouth.
God, when was the last time she’d been this turned on by a kiss?
Certainly not with either of her two ex-fiancés. Or the handful of men she’d dated in the past year.
She was literally panting now. Squirming against him, her sex creaming.
And all the guy had done was kiss her.
But he was making her need so much. Building a fierce, wild lust within her.
His hands drifted up her thighs. Squeezed the flesh. Caressed. So close to the center of her need. So close. Just a few inches more—
Cain pulled away from her and Miranda could have snarled in frustration.
“You—shit, you don’t want this now.”
Her body did.
“You’ve been through hell tonight.” His hands clenched, and Miranda noticed that his face looked a little different. Tighter. Sharper.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not now.”
But she’d wanted him to, and she was woman enough to admit it. “You—you don’t have to apologize.” She’d wanted his mouth on her, still did. But with his withdrawal, that damn sanity—and its friend control—were coming back.
His gaze bored into hers. “There’s something here, between us. Make no mistake about it.”
A nod was her only reply because Miranda didn’t trust herself to speak just then.
“Things aren’t ending here. They’re just starting.” Those golden eyes raked down her body and she saw the lust that flared in his gaze. “And you should know that I always finish what I start.”
Good to know. Her heart was drumming too hard and way too fast against her chest. Her fingers clamped over the edge of the countertop. The urge to reach out to him was strong, but now wasn’t the time.
Not yet.
“Get some sleep.” He turned toward the door, hesitated. “If you need me—”
Oh, but she did.
“—for anything, I’m just down the hallway.”
He’d be waiting in bed.
She exhaled heavily.
Then he was gone and Miranda was left alone with the hunger he’d stirred within her.
He smelled her as he slept. The sweet, tantalizing scent of female flesh. The rich temptation of her sex’s cream.
He’d had her within his grasp. Moaning. Twisting against him. Breasts close enough to kiss. Sex close enough to touch.
And he’d let her go.
With his eyes still closed, Cain reached out and caught the sheets in his hands. A faint ripping filled the air and he swore, knowing that his claws had slashed the fabric.
But his control was weak. Because she was so close. And because despite the performance he’d given earlier, he sure wasn’t a gentleman.
He was much more of a taker and he definitely wanted to take Miranda.
The perfume of honeysuckle and woman grew stronger in the air. Cain tensed.
Then he heard the soft creak of the wooden floor.
His cock, already half-erect, begin to swell in anticipation.
She was coming to him.
He’d tossed and turned for hours thinking of her, caught in a world of fantasies and feverish dreams and she was coming to him.
His eyes opened. He could see her perfectly even in the darkness of the room. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, clad in one of his oversized white T-shirts. Her legs were bare.
That would make things infinitely easier.
“Cain…” A whisper, the sound hesitant and…afraid?
He sat up slowly, drawing in more of her scent with a deep breath.
“I have to…” A step closer. “I have to know…” More slow movements across the floor.
The bedsheets were around his hips. Hiding his arousal, for the moment.
Cain reached over, flipped on the bedside light. For her benefit, not his.
She blinked, hesitated a moment at the flood of light. Then she inched toward him, stopping at the side of the bed. Her wide eyes gazed down at him. “When you first came into my house, you—you looked different.”
Hell. He’d known this would come, sooner or later. Cain had just been hoping for much, much later because when she learned the full truth about him, his fantasies would die a quick death.
An animal. Women like her don’t go for animals. The vampire had been right about that one.
“I didn’t imagine it, did I?” Not as much hesitation now, more determination. “Your eyes—they glowed. Your teeth were sharper.” She reached for his hand, fumbled a bit, then caught his fingers. “And you—you had claws.”
The shock had worn off. While he’d been lusting, she’d obviously been in there replaying the whole night and coming to the conclusion that he—
She released his hand. “You’re not a human, are you, Cain Lawson?”
No sense in lying. He stared up at her and let the beast glow from his eyes. “No, baby, I’m not.”
Three
“Miranda, honey, there’s, uh, something you need to know.” Sam Michaels stared at her with a worried, slightly hangdog look on his face that immediately had her shifting uncomfortably in the worn leather chair.
It was just past eight a.m. on Saturday, and she was truly not in the mood to go around and start learning more things that she needed to know. After last night, she’d learned more than enough about the world.
Once Cain had made his confession, and his eyes had started to glow, for God’s sake, she’d turned carefully on her heel and walked from his room. Her knees had trembled like crazy and she’d sworn that she’d tasted sawdust on her tongue.
But maybe that had just been fear.
She’d locked her bedroom door. Then lodged the desk chair under the doorknob.
Cain hadn’t so much as tried to follow her.
And when she’d woken up and her gaze had fallen on that chair, she’d felt a flash of shame.
The man had saved her life. He deserved better than for her to run from him and hide.
“Uh, Miranda? You listening to me?”
She shook her head because, no, she had no idea what Sam had just been muttering about. Cain was in the lobby of the sheriff’s station, pacing like a caged animal, and she wanted to go to him.
And apologize.
So the guy wasn’t human. She wasn’t perfect, either. And—
“Paul Roberts is dead.”
Now she was liste
ning to him. “What? What happened? Did one of the deputies—”
A long, hard sigh. “He died five years ago. Killed in some kind of animal attack.” He leaned forward in his desk chair.
“That’s not possible, he’s—” A vampire. Wait. Vampires were dead. No, undead. Cain had said that. He’d said—
“Good thing the bastard’s dead, too,” Sam continued, scratching the top of his head. “The guy had a rap sheet a mile long and a serious appetite for hurting women.” His brows beetled. “He liked to cut ’em.”
She could certainly pick winners.
“I don’t know who that guy really was last night, but he was not Paul Roberts.”
Was that supposed to make her feel better? Miranda’s feet dug into the worn carpet. “So Paul Roberts, he’s in the system?” The database, whatever the hell the cops and deputies called the computer link that showed all the criminals and their records.
A nod.
“With a picture?” She pressed.
His hands skated across the desk. “I’ve got a picture right here.”
“I want to see it.”
Sam pursed his lips but opened the file and pushed the photo across his desk.
Miranda looked down and saw the face of the man who’d bitten her the night before. Blue eyes. Long, straight nose. High cheekbones. Chin that was a little weak. Dark hair a bit longer than it was now, but—
Definitely the same man. “Could you, um, could you call Cain in here, please?”
“Ah, sure.” He pressed a button on the phone and asked the clerk out front to show Cain inside.
They were sitting in the sheriff’s office. Sheriff McMillan was out of town. He’d gone fishing in Biloxi, and since Sam was the undersheriff, the second-highest officer in Melvin County, he was holding down the fort.
Less than a minute later, Cain marched inside. Miranda felt the lancing heat of his stare. She looked up and met his look directly. “Paul Roberts is dead.”
He didn’t look particularly surprised.
“According to Sam, he’s been in the grave the past five years.”
Again, no surprise. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelash.
Sam said, “Miranda’s told me she met this guy on the Internet—”
Now one black eyebrow did lift.
“—she never saw his ID, so it’s safe to say the guy gave her a false name. And the SUV we towed from her place, well, it had been stolen two days before, so we got no help on ID from that end.”
When He Was Bad Page 17
