Night’s Pleasure (Children of The Night #4)(22)
Author: Amanda Ashley

She stared at him, shaken anew by the events of the past night.

Someone had killed her father.

In the middle of the night, she had begged Rane to make love to her.

What had she been thinking? Of course, the real problem was that she hadn’t been thinking at all. She had been feeling lost and alone. Caught up in the reality of death, she had reached out to Rane and surrendered her virtue in the most life-affirming act known to mankind. And it had been wonderful, she thought with a guilty sigh. Wonderful, and all wrong.

Sitting up, with the sheet tucked under her arms, she cradled her head in her hands. Lord, what if she was pregnant? Would her child be a shape-shifter? She groaned softly. What had she been thinking, to indulge in unprotected sex with a man she hardly knew? And yet, right or wrong, she had found comfort in Rane’s arms.

On some deep, primal level, she had been aware of his presence beside her even while she slept, had taken comfort in having another human being nearby.

Except that he wasn’t human, at least not entirely.

Holding the sheet over her br**sts with one hand, she studied the man lying beside her, his face barely visible in the faint glow of the night-light he had thoughtfully left burning. He was truly the most amazing-looking man she had ever seen, his features strong and remarkably handsome. Lying there, with one arm folded behind his head, he looked like some pagan warrior prince awaiting the arrival of his favorite courtesan.

The thought brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. Last night, she had played the courtesan. Shame made her cheeks burn hotter. What kind of woman was she, to make love to a man she hardly knew, on the same night her father had been killed and her house had been ransacked? How could she be in bed with a man she hardly knew?

A man who was awake and watching her through dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

He sat up, exposing a pair of broad shoulders and a chest Savanah knew all too well.

Savanah searched her mind for something witty and urbane to say and came up blank, so she waited, hoping he would break the awkward silence between them.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?” he asked, unable to completely disguise the accusation in his voice.

She stared at him, thinking the silence hadn’t been so bad, after all. And then she shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

He grunted softly, his gaze searching hers. “Regrets?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“There’s no need for you to feel guilty about what happened.”

“Isn’t there?” Tears scalded her eyes.

“No. It was a normal reaction. You were hurting and in need of comfort.” What they had shared last night had been more than sexual intimacy. How could he make her understand that?

“Is that what we shared? Comfort?”

“No, it was more than that, and we both know it.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, then wiped the tears from her eyes. “Go on,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “Let it out.”

With a sob, she buried her face against his chest and let the tears flow.

Rane stroked her back, unmindful of the flood of tears dripping down his chest. Gradually, her sobs subsided. She dried her face with a corner of the sheet, then rested in his embrace, her eyes closed.

Rane took a deep breath as he fought the urge to do what came naturally, what he had intended to do since the beginning. He had seduced women before, seduced them and taken their life’s blood, and sometimes, when they had been lost and unhappy and tired of living, he had taken their lives, as well. But he couldn’t steal Savanah’s life. He cared for her too much, feared that if he tasted her again, he would never be able to let her go.

It surprised him to realize he had grown truly fond of her, that he cared more for her future and her well-being than he did about satisfying his craving for her life’s blood.

He grunted softly, wondering when he had grown a conscience. Heaven knew it hadn’t made itself known in decades.

He was pondering this odd turn of events when his skin began to tingle. Muttering softly, he glanced at the window. The sun was rising. It was time to go.

He stirred restlessly. He hated to leave her, but he had to go now or be trapped in the hotel until nightfall. He glanced down at Savanah’s face. Even with her cheeks stained with tears and her hair sleep-tousled, she was the most beautiful, delectable creature he had ever known.

“Rane?”

He was sorely tempted to stay, to take her in his arms and bend her will to his, to bury himself in her sweetness before he surrendered to the Dark Sleep. He swore under his breath. He had to go, now, before he did something they would both regret.

He kissed her, hard and quick. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t have time to talk now.” He kissed her again, then pulled on his shirt and trousers and fled the hotel with the sun’s light nipping at his heels.

Savanah sat up, frowning as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. One minute they were cuddling and the next he was gone, with no explanation.

With a sigh, she buried herself under the covers and went back to sleep.

The ringing of Savanah’s cell phone roused her several hours later. She flipped open the phone and heard the cigarette-roughened voice of Mr. Van Black, owner of the Chronicle. Savanah accepted his condolences, answered his questions about what had happened to her father as best she could, and thanked him for his offer to take as much time off as she needed.

Breakfast was a cup of hot black coffee, and then, with a heavy heart, she sat down and called the cemetery. She was relieved to learn that her father had made arrangements for his own demise shortly after her mother had passed away, thereby sparing Savanah the stress of picking out a plot and a casket. Next, she called the church and set the date for the funeral.

With that taken care of, she made the necessary phone calls to her father’s brother, Arthur, in New York and his cousin, Frank, in South America. Arthur said he would have to rearrange several meetings, but he would be there; a message on Frank’s answering machine advised her that he was somewhere in the jungles of Brazil and would be without any means of communication for several weeks. She left him a brief message.

She sat there a moment, blinking back her tears, and then she called the police department, relieved when the officer at the desk informed her that she was free to return home. Home, she thought. It would never be the same without her father. After what had happened, she wondered if she would ever feel safe there again.