Night's Promise (11 page)

Derek had not dreamed since he was thirteen, but tonight his fears about becoming a werewolf followed him to sleep. This, however, was more of a nightmare, and even though he knew he was dreaming, he was helpless to escape. . . .

Unlike shape-shifting, transforming into a werewolf proved to be agonizing as bones, muscle, tissue, and flesh stretched and crackled. He writhed on the ground, howling in pain until it was over. Then, bounding to his feet, he raced through the dream’s darkness. Streetlights turned into trees, the pavement into earth. He ran tirelessly until he came to a clear pool. Pausing, he stared at his reflection. When he shape-shifted, the creature he became was a handsome thing, fur thick and black, eyes gray, body perfectly formed. But the creature that stared back at him now was hideous—the snout too long, the ears big and misshapen, the body out of proportion.

He whined low in his throat, then turned away and began to run again, his jaws dripping saliva as he scented prey ahead.

He found her caught in a thicket.

It was Sheree, as he had known it would be.

She screamed when she saw him, struggling with renewed effort to free herself from the briars that were tangled in her clothing and hair.

Snarling softly, he padded toward her, the scent of her fear magnifying his lust for her life’s blood. For flesh . . .

In his sleep, Derek recoiled at the thought of consuming human flesh. But the werewolf in his dream would not be denied its prey.

Sheree screamed again as he sank his teeth into her throat, her hoarse cry of pain and fear mingling with his own.

It was the sound of his own tormented cry, and that of his mother calling his name, that woke him. He stared up at her, his body bathed in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“It’s all right,” Mara said, brushing a lock of damp hair from his brow.

“I had a nightmare.”

“You were dreaming?” Such a thing was unheard of.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”

“I was a werewolf.”

“Go on.”

“Sheree . . .” He took a deep breath. “She was my prey.”

“A nightmare, indeed. But it’s over now.”

Sitting up, his back propped against the headboard, he wiped the sweat from his brow with a corner of the sheet. “I shouldn’t be with her. I’m a predator. She’ll always be prey.”

“I disagree. Your dream was a reflection of your fears. You told me yourself that being with her calms you.”

“What if that’s no longer true when I’m a werewolf?”

“If you’re afraid of what you might do, I can lock you up before the full moon. Then we can see how it affects you. Perhaps nothing will happen.”

“And if I turn into a ravening monster?”

“Let’s worry about that if and when it happens.”

“Tell me about Susie McGee.”

Mara sat on the edge of the mattress, ankles crossed. “She was your typical wife and mother until she was bitten by a werewolf. Her husband, Rick, was part of a gang of hunters. Pearl’s grandson was also one of them. They didn’t hunt just vampires, but any and all supernatural creatures. Edna and Pearl had captured several of them so they could experiment with a serum they had invented. It was intended to make all supernatural creatures revert to human.”

Her brow furrowed as she called up the past. “As I recall, it worked on a couple of newly turned vampires, but it had no effect on the shape-shifters. Since they’re born that way, they had no true humanity to revert to. Its effect on the werewolves was mixed. Susie was one of their guinea pigs. She would have died if Rafe hadn’t turned her. She never really got the hang of being a werewolf, but being a vampire seemed to suit her. She fell in love with a shape-shifter and they got married.”

Leaning forward, his mother kissed him on the forehead. “Get some sleep now.”

Slipping under the covers, Derek thought about Susie McGee. First a werewolf, then a vampire, but not both at the same time.

As darkness dragged him back down into oblivion, he thought, given a choice, he’d rather be a vampire.

Sheree glanced out the living room window. The sun was just setting. Derek would be there soon. Peeking out the narrow window beside the front door, she saw Mara sitting on the porch, reading a magazine. The vampire had been there since early morning. Sheree had asked if she wouldn’t be more comfortable inside, but Mara insisted she was fine where she was.

It made Sheree feel cherished, knowing that Derek and his mother were both protecting her.

Hurrying into her bedroom, Sheree ran a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, then changed into the blue skirt and sweater she had bought earlier in the day, with Mara offering advice.

She had just applied fresh lipstick when the doorbell rang. Excitement fluttered in her stomach as she ran down the stairs to open the door.

Derek whistled softly when he saw her. “You look great.”

“Thank you.”

He crossed the threshold, then drew her into his arms, all his doubts about being with her disintegrating when he kissed her.

“I missed you, too,” Sheree said, smiling. “What shall we do tonight?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I’m happy to stay home, if you are.”

“Fine with me.”

In the living room, she sat on the sofa and he settled close beside her, one arm sliding around her shoulders.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Okay. Your mom and I went shopping and then out to lunch. Well, I had lunch. I asked her to come inside, but she refused. It must make for a long day, just sitting there on the porch.”

“It’s a warning to any vampire, any hunter, who’s thinking about hurting you,” Derek explained.

“Still . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. Time doesn’t pass the same for us as it does for you. Vampires can, I don’t know how to explain it, sort of shut down so they don’t notice the passage of time.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. You don’t have to ask my permission.”

“When we were shopping today, I couldn’t help noticing that your mother’s reflection didn’t show in the mirror. Until you told me otherwise, I always thought that was a myth.”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it ever make you feel like you’re invisible?”

“Worse. It makes me feel as if I don’t exist.”

Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you do.”

“I am, too, now.”

His words warmed her heart. Cupping his face in her palms, she drew his head down and kissed him, gasped as his arms tightened around her.

“Sorry,” he murmured, releasing her. “Sometimes I forget how fragile you are.”

“Fragile?”

He chuckled. “Honey, I could break you in two with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Well, that’s comforting!”

“Guess I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

“Don’t be silly. I know how strong you are. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”

“Sheree . . .”

“I’m not afraid of you, Derek.”

“You should be!”

“I think we already had this discussion. Stop worrying and kiss me again.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, and drew her back into his embrace.

Kissing Derek was like nothing Sheree had ever known. She reveled in the strength of his arms around her, in the masterful way he held her and kissed her, the tenderness in his touch as he caressed her. More than his physical strength, she sensed the preternatural power inherent in his kind. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Was she sensitive to it now because she knew what he was? Or had he been shielding it from her until now? The power danced over her skin, a constant reminder that he wasn’t like other men.

She pushed him down on the sofa, then straddled his thighs.

He arched one brow, a faint smile playing over his lips, as she unbuttoned his shirt, then ran her fingertips over his chest and belly.

“Careful now,” he warned.

“I’m tired of being careful.”

He raised himself up so she could remove his shirt.

“Hey,” he said when she tossed it on the floor. “That’s Armani.”

“I’ll buy you another one.” Her gaze moved over him in blatant appreciation. His shoulders were broad, his stomach ridged with muscle. She traced his biceps, explored the curly black hair on his chest, ran her fingertips along his waistline.

“You’re playing with fire, girl.”

“Am I? You don’t feel like fire. Are vampires always so cool to the touch?”

He nodded. “We don’t need to breathe as often as you do. Our hearts beat more slowly.”

Her questing fingers stilled as she waited for him to go on. There was so much about him she didn’t know. She glanced at his forearm. A faint red line marred his pale skin.

His gaze followed hers to the faint red line that stood out against his pale skin. “I got that when I was five or six. Fell off my bike and landed on a piece of glass. Any wounds I get now heal almost instantly and leave no scar.”

“But you can’t be up during the day?”

“I can, for short periods of time, as long as I stay out of the sun’s light, but I prefer the night. My mother assures me that, in a year or two, the sun will no longer affect me.” He drew in a deep breath, let it out in a soft huff. “I could do it now if I drank from her, but . . .” He shook his head. The thought of drinking from his own mother was abhorrent in ways he didn’t care to contemplate. “Any more questions?”

She shivered when he ran his fingertips over her lower lip. Though his touch was cool, heat spread through every nerve and cell in her body.

In a move so quick it was over before she realized it was happening, he rolled over, tucking her body beneath his. She recognized the hunger in his eyes, felt her body’s primal instinct to flee from danger.

Derek growled low in his throat, his hunger sparked by the scent of fear on her skin, the sudden, rapid beating of her heart. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

“I’m not afraid,” Sheree said, forcing herself to relax. “And I’m not prey. But if you’re thirsty . . .” She turned her head to the side. “Drink, Derek.”

He growled again, though it was more of a purr, and then he bent his head to her neck and took what she offered.

Sheree closed her eyes as his fangs brushed her skin. How was it possible that something so unnatural—so revolting—could feel so wonderful? She should push him away, never see him again, but she knew she would not—could not. There was something remarkably intimate about letting him drink from her, about knowing that her blood was nourishing him. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she would die if he took too much. But even that didn’t seem to matter as pleasure rippled through her.

She felt bereft when he lifted his head. His tongue laved her skin, sealing the wounds, and then, murmuring, “Forgive me,” he buried his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Sheree sifted his hair through her fingers, then softly whispered, “I love you.”

“I . . .” Derek cursed inwardly, afraid to tell her he loved her, afraid to believe she loved him. Those three words had started feuds, brought kings to their knees, changed the fate of nations.

He had no idea what havoc those words might cause in his life.

Or hers.

Dammit, he had to say something.

“It’s all right,” Sheree said. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but”—she made a vague gesture with one hand—“I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

Sitting up, he raked a hand through his hair, conscious of her steady gaze. “You remember I told you I’d learned something new about myself?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’d better tell you about it before this thing between us goes any farther.”

Sheree’s heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.

Derek closed his eyes, one hand massaging his brow. How was he supposed to tell her he might turn into a werewolf ? She had accepted his being a vampire without much fuss. Time to find out how she felt about werewolves.

“Listen, I don’t know how to sugarcoat this, so I’m just gonna say it straight out. My father was a werewolf, but the gene he carried was latent and never manifested. Turns out, I also carry that gene.”

“Werewolves are real, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be both at the same time?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll probably find out the next time the moon is full.”

She fidgeted a moment; then, murmuring, “Excuse me,” she left the room.

He heard the sound of a kitchen cupboard opening, water running, knew she was trying to ease her nervousness. He didn’t smell fear on her, which surprised him. But she was ill at ease, confused, unsettled. Well, he could hardly blame her. He felt the same way.

He was debating whether to go to her or just leave when she returned. She hesitated a moment, then perched on the edge of the sofa like a bird poised to take flight at the first sign of danger.

“Do you want me to go?”

“I don’t know.” She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you, but . . . well . . .” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I’ll grant you that.”

“You must be . . . I don’t know . . . worried. Upset.” Her gaze searched his. “Scared.”

He nodded. Scared didn’t begin to cover it.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

“That’s up to you.”

Sheree bit down on her lower lip, then drew a deep breath. “I think I’m going to go home and visit my parents for a week or two and sort out my feelings.”

She was leaving. Hadn’t he known that, sooner or later, she would go? And though he knew it was for the best, he was tempted to use his preternatural powers to make her stay because, heaven help him, he was afraid of what he’d do—what he might become—without her.

“Derek?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” It was, he thought, the biggest lie he’d ever told.

 

 

Mara listened quietly as Derek told her about Sheree’s decision to go back to Philadelphia. Though he spoke with no inflection, she knew the girl’s decision had hurt. Her first instinct was to compel the girl to stay, to love her son the way he deserved. The only thing that stopped her was knowing Derek would hate her for it.

The words
I’m sorry
seemed inadequate, but, in the end, that was all she could think to say.

Later, alone in her bedroom, Mara paced the floor, her heart breaking for her son’s pain. For the first time in his life, he had fallen in love. She told herself that Sheree’s leaving was probably a good thing, at least for now.

Logan materialized in the room a few minutes later. He didn’t have to ask if there was something wrong. The air was thick with the tension radiating off his wife.

Wordless, he drew her into his arms. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Sheree has decided to go home to her parents and Derek is devastated. I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay out of it. This is between the two of them.”

“My son is hurting, and it’s all her fault!”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s a big boy now. He doesn’t need you to lick his wounds.”

She sagged in his arms, her cheek resting on his chest. “I always thought when he grew up I’d stop worrying. He doesn’t need this on top of everything else. The full moon will be here before we know it.”

He snorted softly. “I’m not looking forward to that, either.”