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Lifting his arm, he bit into a vein in his wrist, then held the bleeding wound to her lips.
“Drink.” He spoke to her mind, the word a command she could not ignore. “Drink, love, and then forget what you have done.”
He watched anxiously as the color returned to her cheeks and her breathing grew regular. He would have to watch her more closely in the future. Had this occurred when he wasn’t with her…he shuddered to think what might have happened.
When she stirred, he drew his arm away and licked the wound in his arm, closing it. Wiping the blood from her mouth, he sat on the ground, then lifted her onto his lap and cradled her to his chest.
“Shannah?”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him, her gaze unfocused. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
“I did?”
“How do you feel now?”
“Fine.” She frowned. “Why do I feel fine?”
“I’m sure it was just a passing weakness.”
“Maybe. I never used to recover so quickly though, at least not until I met you. Are you sure you’re not a miracle worker?”
“I’m sure,” he said dryly.
She licked her lips. “There’s a funny taste in my mouth. Did you give me something to drink?”
“No.” Still holding her, he rose effortlessly and set her on her feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll race you back to the house,” she said, grinning. “That’s how all right I feel.”
“I think we’d better walk.”
“Suit yourself.” Shannah glanced around. “How did we get here? I don’t remember being in the park.”
“I couldn’t leave you on the street.”
“So you brought me here? Why didn’t you take me home? Never mind, forget I said that. My Mom would have freaked out.”
“That’s what I thought,” Ronan said, taking her by the hand. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.”
Her parents were waiting for them in the living room when they returned to the house.
“Everything all right?” her father asked.
Shannah grinned inwardly. Like all fathers, he worried when his daughter was out with a new young man, even when that man was a famous author.
“Fine, Daddy,” Shannah said. “I was just…just showing Ronan around.”
“We’ll be saying good night, then,” Verna said, putting her knitting aside. “Shanny, I made up the guest room for Ronan. Why don’t you show him where it is?”
“All right, Mom, thanks.”
“Sweet dreams, dear,” Verna said, kissing Shannah on the cheek. “Good night, Ronan. I hope you’ll be comfortable. Shanny will show you where everything is.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Davis.”
Shannah’s father kissed her on the cheek, shook Ronan’s hand, then followed his wife down the hall to their bedroom.
“The guest room’s upstairs,” Shannah said, “across from my room.”
Ronan lifted one brow. “Is that an invitation?”
“If you want it to be.”
He laughed softly. “You don’t think I’m going to deflower you under your father’s roof, do you?”
“A girl can hope,” Shannah muttered, her cheeks growing hot. “Come on.”
With a shake of his head, he followed her up the stairs, unabashedly admiring the sway of her hips as he did so.
“This is your room,” she said, stopping in front of a closed door. She gestured across the hall.
“And that’s my room, in case you change your mind in the middle of the night.”
Ronan grinned at her, amused by her persistence and her audacity. “Good night, love.”
He watched her go into her room and shut the door before going into his own.
She didn’t know who she was asking to make love to her, he thought, or what she was asking for. Hopefully, she would never know.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Shannah replayed everything that had happened from the time she and Ronan had left the house. They had gone for a walk. He had pulled her into the shadows and kissed her. She remembered feeling suddenly weak, and then nothing after that until she woke on the ground, looking up into Ronan’s worried face.
Going into the bathroom, she poured some mouthwash into a paper cup and rinsed out her mouth, hoping to dispel the strange taste that lingered there. It was an oddly familiar taste, but she couldn’t quite place it.
She took a quick shower, put on her nightgown, brushed out her hair, and climbed into bed, only to lie there, wide awake. Was Ronan in bed? Was he asleep? Or was he lying there, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep for thinking of her? Wanting her the way she wanted him?
Ronan, in bed. She frowned thoughtfully. What did he wear to sleep in? He hadn’t brought any luggage with him. Was he sleeping in his underwear, or in nothing at all?
Impulsively, she slid out of bed and padded across the hallway. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for some sound that would indicate he was still awake. Hearing nothing, she turned the knob. The door opened on silent hinges and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her before she tiptoed toward the bed.
Even in the dark, she could see that it was empty.
Frowning, she turned on the light and glanced around the room. There was no sign of Ronan.
Chapter Fifteen
Ronan walked the dark streets of Middletown. Tall trees lined the sidewalks like dark sentinels.
A full moon hung low in the midnight sky. It was still hours until dawn and he was reluctant to seek his rest so early. Noting the deserted streets and dark houses, it was obvious that few residents of the town shared his love of the night. Sad, he thought, for there was a beauty and a serenity in the night that few took the time to notice.
Leaving the residential area, he found a singles bar on the edge of town. The place was doing a brisk business and he ducked inside and found an empty booth in the back. His senses were quickly overcome with the myriad scents and sounds that filled the air.
A waitress appeared at his table and he asked for a glass of red wine, then sat back and watched the mortals at play. But he had little interest in their comings and goings. It made no difference in his existence if they found what were looking for, whether it was forgetfulness in a bottle, or a warm body with whom to share the night. All he could think of was Shannah. Her scent clung to his clothing. His wrist still tingled from where her mouth had drawn nourishment. The taste of her kisses lingered on his lips, his body remembered the heat and the softness of each lush curve, his arms ached to hold her again. He yearned to lie beside her, to bury himself in her sweetness and pretend, if only for a little while, that she was a healthy woman and he was a mortal man, and that there was nothing on earth or in heaven to keep them apart.
