Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (51 page)

But  now he stood before her, watching her with that grim

look on his face. “I’m here because of you, Sara.”

“Why?” She inched backwards, deciding she’d forget about

her bag. The gun. The crossbow. She could get new weapons.

His lids drooped and, when he looked at her again, terror

wrapped an icy fist around her heart. His amber eyes glowed.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she barely heard him

say, “I think you know why.”

She was too busy staring at his fangs.

Talk about taking one for the team, Wyatt  thought with disgust as Sara back-pedalled away. Her pale-green eyes were wide with shock, her pretty face had gone pale with fear and he could hear the rapid beat of her heart from five feet away.

Five feet and growing. Her hand slid to her waist and then fell back to her side as though she just remembered he’d taken

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her gun. A seriously mean-looking gun. Wyatt had little use for  weapons, but he knew his way around them and the ones he’d  taken from Sara weren’t the kind used for recreation purposes.

They  were a soldier’s weapons. A fighter’s. A killer’s.

It hurt his heart to see what grief and rage had done to her.  Wyatt’s memories of that one week last year were crystalline.  He could recall it in such acute, exquisite detail. The way her lashes fluttered right before her eyes went wide as she came, a feline smile curling her lips as she cuddled into him afterwards.

The way those pretty green eyes had misted over with tears she tried to hold back. The reluctant way she told him that her twin brother had  been murdered, along with her best friend.

Even then she’d had secrets in her eyes, some hidden knowledge she hadn’t given voice to. Thinking back, Wyatt knew he shouldn’t have let her slip away as she had. And not just because he could have happily spent  the next 50 years in bed with the woman.

When she slipped away from him, he had almost gone after her. Almost. But he’d been sent to make sure she would be all right  –  not fuck her brains out. He’d ended up doing both, and the guilt he carried was lightened only a little by the knowledge that she’d needed him. And he did prefer to think it was
 
him
she’d needed, and not just anonymous sex. A man was allowed a few delusions, after all.

That guilt was back though. He’d been thinking with the

wrong brain and  now they were both caught in a mess.

“You’re one of them,” she whispered. There was a stricken  look in her eyes that was going to linger in his mind for a long,  long time.

“Sara, I’m not going to hurt you.”

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She laughed. It was an ugly, brittle sound that echoed through the night. As it faded, she stared at him with a mixture of disbelief, hurt, anger and fear. “Don’t give me that line,  Wyatt. I know what your kind do. Hurting people is all you know.”

“If I’d wanted to hurt you, I would have done so last year.”

She flinched as though he’d slapped her. Wyatt held still,

when all he wanted was reach for her, pull her to him.

“If you don’t want to hurt me, then what in the hell do you

want?” she demanded.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and he knew she didn’t believe him. It hurt. But he’d come into this knowing he’d get bloodied  –  figuratively speaking. Getting his heart tipped out again, much like what happened when he realized she’ d walked out on him, was much better than the alternative. That didn’t

even bear thinking about.

Focus on the problem, Wyatt, not the consequences of

failure, he told himself.

“I just want to keep you from making a mistake.” He jerked  his chin in the direction of the alley but didn’t look at her face.  “He wasn’t hurting her.  He doesn’t believe in it.”

Sara’s lips curled. “Yeah. I bet. You know, this vampire-with-a-soul bit has already been done. Buffy and Angel pretty much covered that storyline.”

Despite himself, Wyatt grinned. “Buffy and Angel are  Hollywood, love. This is  real life.” His smile faded and he pushed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Sara, vampires aren’t demons any more than human’s are. Yes, some are

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monsters . . .” He slanted a look in her direction and added, “But

then again, I’ve seen my share of human  monsters, too.”

“Human’s didn’t kill Joey and Darla.”

“No.” Wyatt faced her levelly. “You aren’t mistaken in that.  They were attacked by vampires. But not all vampires kill,  Sara.”

She gave him a hard smile. It matched the look in her eyes.

Hard. Emotionless. Empty. “Sorry, not buying it.”

“If all vampires kill  –  how come you’re still alive?”

For a second, she looked unsure. Wyatt pressed his advantage. “Did I hurt you once, Sara? Do anything you didn’t want me to do?”

“Just because you didn’t then doesn’t mean you never

would, lover.”

He gave her a narrow look. “Sara, darling, it’s a bit insulting to imply I’m a cold-blooded murderer and then call me ‘lover’ in the same breath.”

She sneered at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been harbouring

fond memories, Wyatt.”

“Fond?” His lids drooped over his eyes. Unable to stay  away any more, he went to her, moving quicker than mortal  eyes could track. Her eyes widened, her heartbeat kicked up and  her apprehension scented the air.

The predator in him stirred, the  hunger rousing.

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But the man ached. He reached out and hooked a hand over

her neck, moving against her so that their bodies were pressed

together from chest to knee.

“Fond memories? That doesn’t describe it> I remember the

way you moaned in my arms, the way you smiled when you

woke up and smelled coffee. I remember the way you taste.”

Lowering his head, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder. She tensed and tried to jerk away. He breathed in the scent of her, let it flood his system and  then he let her pull back.

“I remember the way you cried yourself to sleep while I

held you. I remember you walking out on me.”

He blew out a breath and shifted his gaze away from her.  This was hard, even harder than he’d thought it would be. How could those few nights have left such a mark on him?

He hadn’t been with another since her and the sexual frustration alone was murder. But he didn’t want any other woman. He couldn’t see a pretty brunette without remembering her, remembering the way he’d buried  his hands in her silken hair as he kissed her. The way it had spread over them like a blanket as they slept.

“I’ve got fond memories of fishing with my dad. My first  dog. My first woman.” He slid her a look and added gruffly,  “But ‘fond’ doesn’t even scratch the surface when it comes to  you.”

No ‘Fond’ was for barely recalled memories of his youth, memories of the life he’d planned to live until fate intervened.  ‘Fond’ was something he might enjoy reminiscing about, but nothing he’d spend his life missing. He’d missed Sara every

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day. Woke up thinking of her. Dreamed of her. Thought about

her. Ached for her.

Sara was one of those things ‘not meant to be’ that he usually was able to move past. Like the life he had once so carefully planned. The fiancée he’ d been forced to leave behind.  His job. His home. His parents. Things, people he’d loved. But he’d been able to move past them.

He couldn’t say the same about Sara and, as he studied her face, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to tuck her neatly away in  some niche. She might be a ‘not meant to be’, but he couldn’t accept it.

She started to squirm, her gaze moving away, as though his

attention made her uncomfortable.

When he took a step towards her, her eyes swung back in his direction and, although she  kept her expression blank, he could feel the fear in her. He didn’t stop though and she didn’t back away from him. “You’re afraid of me.”

Her chin angled up. “I’d be stupid to
 
not
 
be afraid.”

Wyatt cocked a brow at her. “Why? When have I ever done

anything to hurt you? To make you think that I might?”

Curling her lip at him, she gestured towards his face, her eyes lingering on his mouth. Although he knew there was nothing sexual in the look, his body responded as though she had pressed a kiss to his lips  rather than sneered at his fangs.  “Those aren’t there for ornamentation.”

With a shrug, Wyatt said, “No. They aren’t. They serve a purpose. But I decided what purpose they’ll serve, Sara. I didn’t lose my humanity when this happened  –  and I didn’t
 
choose
 
for it to happen.”

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Her lashes flickered. He’d like to think he was actually

reaching her but Wyatt hadn’t ever been much of an optimist.

“Leave me alone, Wyatt.”

She glanced towards her things, but she didn’t try to get them. Instead, she backed away until she reached the rickety fire escape, watching him as though she expected him to pounce on her. The idea had its appeal, although not for the reasons she seemed to think. But Wyatt just stood there and watched as she swung her legs over the edge of the  roof and disappeared from view.

“That didn’t go well.”

The wind slammed into him as he stood there in the darkness debating his next move. For now, the vampire Sara had been targeting was safe, as were any others in the area (she’d left her weapons behind).

Wyatt tucked her gun into his waist, turned to look back at her other things. With a sigh, he started to pack them up only to stop and look back in the direction Sara had gone.

It was midnight and Sara was a woman alone. He’d follow her, make sure she got wherever she was staying unharmed. His train of thought slammed him to a halt as his body whispered a warning. An icy-cold touch slithered down his spine and every instinct he had went on red alert. His head flew up and he turned his head following  a summons few could hear. Death. Blind hunger.

He hadn’t lost his humanity when he became a vampire. But

some had.

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There were monsters out there preying on humans and, right

now, one of them was on the hunt.

Sara couldn’t hear the footsteps and, when  she turned to look, she saw nobody behind her. But she knew she was being followed.

Hell. Screw
followed
.

She was being stalked.

The skin on the back of her neck crawled, her gut knotted and blood roared in her ears. Her fingers itched and if she’d hadher gun, she would have been holding it like a security blanket.  She wanted to run. Desperately. But the calmer part knew that running was a bad, bad idea. Very bad. Things that ran got chased. Things that got chased too often got caught. No thanks.

Then there was another part of her that whispered she needed to get back to Wyatt.
 
That
 
voice, for some reason, was harder to ignore. She had no logical reason to think that anything about Wyatt promised safety  –  even if he had just let her walk away. Even if  he hadn’t tried to hurt her.

“Where are you going, pretty girl?”

It was a low, amused voice  –  deep with a Southern accent, soft and quiet. Not at all threatening. But she felt the threat.  Sending a glance over her shoulder, she looked for him, but saw nothing. Picking up her speed, she focused on the sidewalk in front of her. And ploughed right into him.

Instinct kicked in and she drove the hell of her palm upwards, but he moved away, evading her strike with pathetic

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ease. He grabbed both her arms. His  fingers were hard, the chill  of them seeping through her clothes and freezing her to the  bone. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked, smiling.

Sara said nothing.

The smile faded away and he cocked his head, studying her

face. “You aren’t screaming. Why aren’t you screaming?”

Again, she said nothing.

His fingers tightened on her arms and he jerked her close.  Sara craned her head away from him when he pressed his mouth to her cheek and he started to laugh.

“There, that’ s more like it. It’s more  fun when you fight.”

Then this is going to be a lot of fun for you.”

The sound of that voice was about the sweetest sound she’d ever heard, Sara decided. So what if she had all but run away from him a few minutes ago? Angling her head, she tried to follow the sound of his voice, but the man holding her moved, dragging her into an alley at their right.

He moved with a speed that left her head spinning. Fear had blood roaring in her ears. She thought she heard them talking but their words didn’t make a whole lot of sense. At least not until a hand fisted in her hair and jerked her head to the side.  “Unless you want me to rip her throat out in front of you, you’ll stay the hell back.”