Rising, I forced myself to walk sedately out of the room. I stared at the closed door at the end of the hall. Why was it locked? What was he hiding in there? The image of a coffin quickly sprang to mind, something burnished and bronze with white satin lining. Shaking off the morbid mental imagery, I went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned the lock.
Standing in front of the sink, I soaked a washcloth in cold water and pressed it against my burning cheeks, hoping it would cool me off, although I doubted even a dip in the Arctic Ocean could put out the fire Raphael had ignited. What was I going to do about him?
Sitting on the edge of the oval-shaped tub, I glanced at my surroundings. There were no windows in this room, either, and no mirrors. I noted absently that he had good taste, and I wondered if he had decorated the house himself or had it done by a professional decorator. The sink top was black marble veined with gold; the basin was white, the fixtures antique brass. The deep red towels hanging from the towel bar made a bold statement against the white walls. The stall shower was easily large enough for two. I quickly shook off the all-too-erotic image of the two of us in that shower, our bodies pressed together in a soapy, steamy embrace.
I ran a hand through my hair, then glanced at my watch. I couldn't stay in here forever. Sooner or later, I would have to go out and face him.
I jumped when someone knocked on the door. It could only be Raphael.
“You okay in there?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You planning to come out anytime soon?” There was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.
Muttering under my breath, I unlocked the door and came face-to-face with the man who had troubled my thoughts and haunted my dreams since the moment he walked into my store.
“How long are you going to fight this attraction between us?” he asked.
“Until I get over it,” I retorted.
“Take as long as you need,” he said, a glint of humor lighting his dark eyes. “I've got time.”
Indeed, I thought, he had all the time in the world.
Chapter Nine
Raphael was driving me home later that night when I suddenly remembered what Susie had told me earlier in the day. I glanced over at Raphael. If there had been some kind of Were/Vampire battle fought the night before, he would surely know about it. But would he tell a mere mortal like me? I shrugged inwardly. There was only one way to find out.
“Was there some sort of confrontation between the Vampires and the Werewolves last night?”
He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
I shrugged. “I don't remember. Is it true?”
“An acquaintance of mine was destroyed last night,” Raphael said, his voice tight. “He was attacked by three Werewolves.”
“I'm sorry.”
“How did you know?”
“I told you, someone mentioned it. They heard a noise but thought they might have imagined it.” I studied Raphael's profile. His expression was hard, implacable. “I thought Oak Hollow was neutral territory?”
“It's supposed to be.”
“Then why are there so many Vampires and Werewolves running around? Is something going on?”
“We had a meeting last week.”
“What kind of meeting?”
He grunted softly as he pulled up to a stop sign, then made a left turn. “I guess you could call them peace talks. There have been an inordinately large number of deaths among us in the last few months. Some of the older Werewolves and Vampires, my grandparents among them, have been…”
“Your grandparents are Vampires, too? All of them?” I'd been taught Vampires couldn't create life. Had I been wrong?
“No, just the ones on my mother's side.”
“And they're married?” I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice.
“Of course.”
Married Vampires. Who would have guessed? Once again, I realized I had a lot to learn about the Undead. “Go on.”
“As I was saying, the older Werewolves and Vampires are trying to persuade the young hotheads that killing each other isn't the answer, and that whichever side prevails will just have to turn around and fight the humans. The Werewolves aren't as vulnerable as the Vampires, but they're still small in number compared to the human population. My grandfather reminded everyone that, once spurred to action by fear or in self-defense, the humans can be a formidable foe. Better to live in the shadows as we have done in the past, he said, than give the mortal population reason to hunt us to extinction.”
“Did anyone listen to him?”
“Mara agreed with him. She decreed that the Vampire community would honor a truce, if the Weres would do the same. Clive, who's the head of the Werewolves, also agreed to a truce. Unfortunately, not everyone wants peace. There are hotheads on both sides who want to take over the world, and they don't care how many on either side are killed in the process. The Weres who attacked Cristophe last night did so in an effort to destroy the truce, but Mara and Clive had been expecting something like that to happen sooner or later.”
“I'm sorry about your friend.”
“He wasn't a friend,” Raphael replied. “Just someone I knew.” He pulled up at the curb in front of my house and put the car in Park, then turned to face me. “Not a friend like you.” His hand slid over my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a frisson of sensual pleasure in its wake. “Losing you, now that would be a real loss.”
He certainly knew how to get a girl's attention.
I quivered with anticipation as he got out of the car and came around to open my door. Taking my hand, he helped me out of the car; still holding my hand, he walked me to my front door. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world when he wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me close.
My heart did a happy little joy-joy dance as his mouth captured mine. I moved closer, aligning my body with his, marveling at how well we fit together. The feel of his arousal sent shivers of desire exploding through me. I might have invited him into my house, into my bed, if a bloodcurdling howl of pain hadn't shattered the quiet of the night. The sound, filled with unspeakable agony, sent a chill slithering down my spine.
Raphael released me, his whole body taut as he turned to sniff the wind.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don't know. Go inside and lock the door.”
“I don't want to stay here alone.”
“All right,” he said, taking my hand, “come on.”
I wasn't sure I wanted to go with him, either, but I had no choice now. I followed him around the side of the house and into the dense grove of trees that grew along the north side of my property. It was a good thing he had superior night vision, because I couldn't see a thing. Raphael moved unerringly through the dark, moving deeper and deeper into the woods. As we walked, I could hear rustling in the underbrush. I tried not to think about what might be hiding in the detritus, but thoughts of rats and mice scurrying around quickly came to mind.
A few yards later, Raphael came to an abrupt halt. Shifting a little to his left, I gazed into the darkness. At first I didn't see anything, and then I saw something dark and furry writhing on the ground. Just then, the wind shifted, and I caught the coppery smell of blood.
“Stay here.” Raphael's tone warned me not to argue. He didn't have to worry. I had no desire to get any closer to whatever it was that was thrashing on the ground.
Raphael moved ghostlike through the darkness, his feet making no sound even though the ground was littered with dead leaves and broken branches.
I peered into the darkness, but I couldn't see anything other than Raphael's dark figure as he knelt on the ground. A horrible keening wail rose in the air, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, chilled by a cool breeze that carried the scent of blood and death.
I glanced behind me, suddenly overcome with the feeling that we were no longer alone.
Unnerved by the thought of what could be lurking in the darkness, I moved a few steps closer to Raphael.
Another moan rose on the wind. And then a voice, low and edged with pain, whispered, “Do it!”
Raphael leaned forward. I heard a strangled sob, a gasp, and then silence. The stink of urine filled my nostrils.
Before I could make sense of what was happening, Raphael was at my side. Taking my hand in his, he led me back to my house. When we were inside, he locked the door behind us.
“Do you own a gun?” he asked.
“A gun! Of course not.”
He swore under his breath. “Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don't leave the house tonight. Do you understand?”
“What happened out there?”
“Not now. Promise me you won't leave the house no matter what, and that you won't open the door for anyone.”
It was the look in his eyes more than his words that made me promise. “Where are you going? What happened out there? What was that thing in the woods?”
A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “You're better off not knowing.”
“Friends don't have secrets, remember?”
“Dammit!” He raked a hand through his hair, then pulled me roughly into his arms. “A Vampire attacked a Werewolf. He drained him to the point of death, then…” His arms tightened around me. “You don't need to know any more than that except that the Were wasn't going to get better.”
“He said ‘do it.' What did he mean by that?”
“He wanted me to put him out of his misery.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Did you?”
Raphael's gaze slid away from mine. “Yes.”
I didn't even want to think about what that meant, how he had done it, or what would become of the body lying in the woods. Was a mercy killing the same as murder?
“I've got to go.” Raphael's voice and his expression were distant as he released me and walked toward the door. “Be sure to lock up after I leave.”
I followed him to the door. He paused at the threshold, his gaze caressing me, the touch of his hand achingly tender as he stroked my cheek. And then he was gone, disappearing into the night as if he had never been there.
