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And it’s working. “Vampires don’t exist.” Said with more certainty than she currently felt. The wounds on her neck seemed to burn.

Cain stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “Baby, just what do you think happened tonight?”

“I was attacked.” Her shoulders straightened. “By someone very, very sick.” She didn’t want to think about the rest just then. Didn’t want to think about the terrible moment when she could have sworn that Cain’s nails lengthened into claws.

Because that couldn’t have happened. Could. Not. She’d been stressed. Things had been moving fast. She’d been confused and⁠—

And she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Miranda knew she was scared. Maybe staying with Cain hadn’t been the best idea.

Sanity had decided to raise its annoying head too late.

Cain growled. Stepped toward her. “That’s the way you’re gonna play it, huh?”

“I’m not playing anything.” The words sounded false. Miranda had the sudden, stark feeling that she was standing on a precipice. And if she moved, if she stepped forward and saw what waited over that deadly edge, she’d fall and her life would change. Forever.

Cain’s eyes were locked on her. Seeing far too much. “There’s something I need to show you.” Then he caught her hands and all but carried her back into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” She tried to dig in her heels but the man was strong. Crazy strong. Miranda remembered the almost effortless way he’d tossed Paul across the room. Uh-oh. Okay, so she hadn’t imagined that part of the night.

He shoved open a white door. Stepped inside a bathroom. He freed her hands and hit the light switch, then he pushed her in front of the mirror. Cain caught her hair and pulled it back, exposing the savaged column of her throat. “Take a long, hard look.”

She did. Scratches. Mottled skin.

And two tiny puncture wounds.

Her hands flattened against the sink and she rocked forward, straining to get a better view. She’d expected to see the imprint of a man’s teeth. This was⁠—

Oh, no, what the hell was this?

Two puncture wounds. Deep. Spaced about an inch and a half apart.

Just like a vampire bite in the movies.

He’d had fangs. Two-inch-long fangs.

She closed her eyes a moment. Saw that stupid precipice again. Then felt her body being shoved right over the edge.

“Still think vampires don’t exist?” Cain asked, his breath feathering over her right ear.

Her eyes opened and met his in the mirror. “They aren’t supposed to be real,” she whispered and felt a desperate pounding in her temples. Would this night never end? Cain’s scent—man, slightly woodsy—wrapped around her. For a moment, she was tempted to lean back against him. To let her body melt into his.

Then he spoke. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. Vampires aren’t the only creatures running around on this earth that ‘aren’t supposed to be real.’”

“I-I can’t deal with this right now.” She needed to think. A vampire. A real blood-sucking, creature-of-the-night vampire. And she’d picked him off the Internet for a date.

Her luck just sucked. Strike three for her in the romance department.

Miranda turned and stared up at Cain’s hard features.

Good-looking, yes. Undeniably so. Sexy. With those gleaming eyes and that sinful mouth. But there was power there, too. In the lines of his face. In the strong brow, the square jaw.

His head lowered toward hers.

Her lips parted.

“You didn’t know what he was, did you?” Cain rasped.

“No.” A whisper.