She screamed in orgasm in the dream and shuddered in orgasm in real life.
Wracked with sensations more incredible than any she’d felt with a real lover, she trembled. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him, breathlessly. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils dilated. The front of his towel tented forward.
He felt that, too. Whatever is between us, it’s mutual.
She sucked in air, her hands shaky, her skin tingling, her womb throbbing. At the moment, he looked so beautiful to her. The overhead light fractured around him in an echo of the sunset gilding him on the dream mountain.
You do something to me. Just by existing.
Her hand drifted toward his chest. “I—”
He stepped back stiffly, clearing his throat. “I think I’ll stand under the cool water awhile longer, Kate. It would make my back feel better.”
“Right,” she whispered. “A cold shower for your . . . back.”
His smile was rueful and shy and sweet enough to make her heart creak.
“Something like that,” he murmured. His hand touched her cheek so briefly it was only the ghost of a caress, but it was still powerful enough to implore her to step toward him. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as if the struggle within him was intense.
“I’d better go,” he said, then turned and with that long and powerful stride, escaped into the bathroom.
Body still thrumming with unsatisfied cravings, she thought, His willpower is stronger than mine.
She pictured him standing naked in the shower and knew it would take all her will just to keep herself from joining him there.
The doorbell startled Kate. She wasn’t expecting company. It’s probably a holiday package, she thought, but when she opened the door, she found a group of uniformed men. A sheriff and three deputies armed with shotguns.
“Hello, ma’am. May we come in?”
A trickle of unease dripped down her spine. Why had they come to the door with their weapons in hand?
“What’s this about?”
“We’re tracking a fugitive. The trail led here.”
“A fugitive, you say? What’s he wanted for?” Her heart thumped more quickly, her eyes studying their faces. Their eager expressions didn’t put her at ease.
“He? I didn’t mention it was a he,” the sheriff said, looking past her. They pressed forward.
“Most fugitives are men,” she said.
“Is he inside?” the sheriff demanded.
“Sure, he’s inside,” one of the deputies said with an angry sneer, and she spotted the tips of his fangs.
“Oh!” she said, backpedaling into the house. She swung the door, but one of them grabbed it and shoved it open. They pushed forward, spinning her and cuffing her hands behind her back.
Her outrage spilled out as curses, but they didn’t break their stride. They shoved her onto the couch and told her to stay there.
“The disguises don’t fool me. I know you’re ventala.”
“The show wasn’t for you. It was for your neighbors,” one said as he hurried to the back of the house and opened the deck door. More men spilled in, and she gasped.
“Get out of my house!” she yelled as they started checking rooms and some rushed upstairs. They kicked in the guest room door where her visitor had just been showering.
“Katherine Devane,” the fake sheriff said, looking inside her wallet. “I know who you are. You’re an aspirant. You wrote the story about the vampire nest in South Dakota and got them all killed.”
She ignored the sheriff and held her breath, listening for sounds from the guest room. Had they found Bronze? Overpowered him?
A group of ventala pounded down the stairs. “Upstairs is clear.”
“There was an open window in the downstairs bedroom. He must have climbed out.”
“Outside then. Fast!” The sheriff turned to her. “Did he have his memory, Kate?”
She pursed her lips and glared at the fake sheriff. He grabbed her arms and squeezed them. “Where did he go? Tell me right now.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
He backhanded her across the face. Her head snapped back from the blow, and she fell against the cushions.
“Here’s the thing. You will tell me what I want to know eventually. You can do it after being beaten bloody or before. It’s your choice.”
Her cheek flamed, and she didn’t doubt the sincerity of his threat.
“You tell me where he is.”
Even with a watering eye, her vision wasn’t completely blurred, and she saw Bronze. He stood naked in the doorway, his wet hair dripping water. He looked like a Viking berserker, the dagger in his right hand slick with blood.
It felt as though she stared at him forever, but it must have only been seconds. She dragged her eyes away to look around and realized there were only two ventala left in the house with her. The fake sheriff bared his fangs and grabbed her. Teeth scraped her neck. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
She saw Bronze’s eyes, dark with fury, as he sailed through the air. The sheriff was yanked away from her by the hair, his head snapping back. Her visitor slit the ventala’s throat in a smooth motion while still airborne. He landed nearly silently, turned and drove the dagger down behind the sheriff’s left collarbone. The ventala’s eyes widened as he slammed to his knees, then fell facedown.
Bronze fought the other ventala, dispatching him with equal efficiency, but Bronze didn’t escape unwounded. She gasped at the half-buried knife in his flank. He grimaced and slid the blade out on a river of blood.
“Oh no!” she said, struggling to her feet.
When she reached him, she saw other wounds. A slice through his left shoulder that gaped open when he moved, a hole in his left thigh, a slice along his hip. He rested the dagger on the couch and sank to his knees holding the gushing flank wound.
She fumbled for the keys on the sheriff’s belt, her hands damp with sweat. She brought Bronze the keys with shaking hands.
“Can you uncuff me? Then I can help you.”
He groaned. “My back isn’t the only thing that hurts now.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Oh God,” she said, wincing. Please let the bleeding stop!
He took the keys. “Small shackles,” he murmured. “Delicate like your wrists.”
The cuffs popped open, and she turned back to him. He forced himself to a standing position, panting for breath. He bent forward so that the front of his body rested on top of the couch, then he rolled over it so he lay lengthwise.