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“Why would my blood be different from anyone else’s?” Sheree asked anxiously. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“Your blood is fine,” Mara assured her. “Some believe that certain bloodlines or types have that effect on certain vampires. It’s very rare that the vampire and the mortal find each other.”
“And you wanted me here because you think my blood will somehow help Derek during the full moon?”
Mara nodded. “Exactly. Now that we’ve settled that, I’m hungry. Are you coming, Logan?”
“Of course.”
“Excuse me,” Sheree said, “but can I ask you something?”
“Only if you think you can handle the answer,” Mara replied somewhat acerbically.
“Do you . . . I’m not sure what you call it . . . need blood every day?”
“We call it hunting or feeding,” Mara replied. “And no, I don’t need to feed every day. But I enjoy the hunt. And to answer your next question, I rarely kill my prey these days.”
“The same goes for me,” Logan said. “Enjoy yourselves, you two. We’ll be gone for quite a while.”
Clasping hands, the two vampires vanished from sight.
“I hope I didn’t make her angry,” Sheree said.
“No. It’s natural for you to be curious about us.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “Anything else you’d like to know?”
“Do you have to . . . to feed . . . every day?”
“No, but I’m a predator, and like most vampires, I also enjoy the hunt.”
Sheree shivered as she imagined him stalking helpless humans, throwing them on the ground, burying his fangs in their throats.
Derek snorted softly. “I use a little more finesse than that, love.”
“If people knew how wonderful it felt, you wouldn’t have to hunt them down. They’d come to you.”
His easy laughter filled the air as he pulled her into a bear hug. “Sheree, my love, how did I ever live without you?”
As promised, Derek took Sheree out to dinner that night. Deciding to try the house specialty, she ordered Csirke-paprikás, a chicken stew flavored with paprika, cumin, and chilis. The waitress suggested Sheree add a side of buttered potatoes, which she did. Sheree hadn’t expected Derek to order anything, but he asked for a steak, seared on the outside, and a bottle of wine.
“It’s almost the full moon,” he said, noting her curious gaze. “The week before it’s full, I crave meat.” He took a deep breath. “Raw meat.”
“Oh. Well, that’s . . . interesting.”
“No, it’s not.”
Reaching across the table, Sheree took his hand in hers. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
“I wish I could be sure.”
“What are you really afraid is going to happen?”
His hand tightened on hers. “I’m afraid that I’ll become a killing machine with no conscience.”
Sheree shook her head. “I don’t believe that’s possible. You’re a good man, Derek. I know it in every fiber of my being. I wouldn’t be here with you if you weren’t.”
When the waitress arrived with their dinner, Sheree tried not to stare at Derek’s plate. The steak, barely cooked, swam in a sea of blood-red juice.
“I shouldn’t have ordered anything,” he said, noting the thinly veiled revulsion in her eyes.
“No. Lots of people like their steak rare. I’m told it tastes better that way.”
Derek shook his head as he cut the steak into pieces and took a bite. It was remarkably satisfying.
Later, they strolled through the town. It was like stepping back in time, Sheree thought, walking along the cobblestone streets.
“This is where legend says vampires were born,” she mused, thinking about Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and how strange it was to be walking in Transylvania with a real vampire at her side.
Derek shook his head. “No one really knows where the first one came from, or how we came to be. Some believe that it was a curse set upon a man who lusted after another man’s wife. Others believe that we’re demon spawn, and that vampires cast no reflection in a mirror because we have no soul. There’s a small group that believes we are a separate species, and that we evolved along with mankind.”
“I’ve never heard any of those theories before, but I definitely like the last one the best. It’s an intriguing idea.” She glanced around, admiring the quaint shops, the distant mountains, some capped with snow. “It’s a beautiful country.”
“So they say. You should ask Mara to take you sightseeing before we leave.” He slid a glance in her direction. “You should at least visit Castle Dracula while you’re here.”
“I’d love to. I read a lot about it online.”
He lifted one brow. “Researching the undead?”
“Of course. It was a passion of mine.”
“Was?”
She punched him on the arm. “You know what I mean.”
“How do I know you’re not just using me for research?” he asked, eyes glinting with humor.
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Would you mind if I was?”
“You can research me all you want,” he said, laughing. “I admit I did quite a bit of it myself growing up.”
“You did? Why? I mean, didn’t you already know everything there was to know about vampires?”
“More or less, but being one myself, I was naturally curious about what people thought of us. I read everything I could get my hands on about Romania and vampires and Vlad Dracula. To this day, his people regard him as a hero.”
“Some hero! I read that he killed over forty thousand people.”
“From what I read, it was more like eighty thousand,” Derek said. “And that’s not counting the number of villages he burned to the ground.”
When they reached a narrow alley between two buildings, Derek pulled her into it, then took her in his arms and kissed her hungrily. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said, his voice husky. And then he kissed her again.
She would have protested but with his arms wrapped around her and his mouth ravaging hers, it was impossible to think of anything but the desire that flamed between them. He backed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers, letting her feel the growing evidence of his desire.
She moaned softly, her hands delving under his shirt, moving restlessly up and down his back and shoulders. His skin was cool beneath her fingertips, the muscles well-defined.
