Night’s Pleasure (Children of The Night #4)(63)
Author: Amanda Ashley

Her fingertips lingered over one of the smooth wooden stakes. If she had learned anything up at Mara’s place, it was that she should always have a bottle of holy water and a stake or two close at hand. With that thought in mind, she wrapped one of the stout wooden stakes in an old scarf and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans, then slipped a bottle of holy water into one of the pockets. She felt a little silly, being armed in her own house, but silly or not, it was the smart thing to do. Her gun was in her handbag. Perhaps it was time to buy a holster and carry the gun on her person, as well. She would have to ask Rane about that later.

She wondered how and where her parents had obtained holy water. Had they gone to the local Catholic church with a jar and asked the priest to fill it up for a good cause? And what about stakes? She seemed to recall that one of the books had mentioned that hawthorn worked the best. Luckily, there were several hawthorn trees growing in the backyard.

Coincidence? She thought not.

She closed the box, then picked up her cell phone, intending to call Mr. Van Black to let him know she was home but would need more time off, only to sit there staring at the screen. Being a reporter didn’t seem as important as it once had. It might take years to get the kind of break that would allow her to work in New York City or Los Angeles. In the meantime, she would be stuck here, a small-town reporter covering small-town stories, when she should be devoting all her time and energy to finding and destroying Vampires. Her parents had left her financially well-off. Her father had carried a large insurance policy; her mother had turned Vampire hunting into a lucrative business.

Savanah ran her hand over the top of the box again. To tell the truth, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Of course, all things considered, the rest of her life could be days instead of years.

And with that in mind, she punched in Mr. Van Black’s number and told him she was quitting.

Rane stirred with the setting of the sun, his senses expanding, his nerves on edge until he detected Savanah’s presence inside the house. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Something with chicken. Food, he thought. Mortals spent a lot of time thinking about it, preparing it, eating it. He remembered sitting on the kitchen counter helping his mother make Christmas cookies when he was five or six and how he and Rafe had decorated the cookies, the kitchen, and themselves with colored icing. Rafe’s favorite dessert had been fudge brownies. He remembered how he and Rafe had argued over who got to lick the spoon and who got the bowl and how once, when their mother’s back was turned, Rafe had opened the oven door and the two of them had eaten spoonfuls of warm, uncooked brownie batter.

It seemed like an eternity since he had seen his mother and his brother. And his father. What were they all doing now? Did they think of him often? He had shut them out of his life, blocked the link between himself and Rafe, and yet he couldn’t help feeling hurt that they hadn’t found him. Had they even tried?

Berating himself for his melancholy thoughts, he burrowed up through the earth alongside the house, then stood there a moment, drinking in the sounds of the night, his senses searching for anything out of the ordinary. When he was convinced that there was no danger lurking in the shadows, he willed himself into the house.

Savanah opened the oven door to check on the chicken. Another few minutes and it would be baked to perfection. She stirred the rice, turned the fire down low under the corn, and let out a shriek when she turned around and saw Rane standing in the doorway.

He grinned at her. “Sorry.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“Next time I’ll say, ‘Boo.’”

“Very funny. Where have you been?”

“Resting.”

“Where? I…Well, I looked for you in the house.”

“I decided to sleep outside.”

“Oh?”

He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “Did you miss me?”

“Maybe.”

He grinned at her.

“Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted. “Mostly I was just curious about where you were.”

His grin widened. “You’re a terrible liar. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you.” She blew out a sigh. “I quit my job today.” Now that it was done, she was having second thoughts.

“If you’re worried about money, don’t,” Rane said. “I have more than I need.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…” She shrugged. “Nothing in my life seems to be going the way I planned.”

“I suppose I’m partly to blame for that,” Rane remarked.

“Partly.” She jumped when the oven timer buzzed. “My dinner’s ready.”

Releasing her, Rane watched her take a pan out of the oven and set it on the counter. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of cooked meat permeated the room.

Savanah bustled about the kitchen, setting the table, filling a glass with milk, spooning rice and corn onto a plate, adding a chicken breast.

“Do you want to keep me company while I eat?” she asked, sitting at the table.

He shook his head. “My dinner awaits.” Bending, he kissed her cheek. “I won’t be gone long,” he said, and vanished from her sight.

Rane materialized on the sidewalk. Because he didn’t want to leave Savanah alone any longer than necessary, he hypnotized the first mortal who crossed his path, took what he needed, and made his way back to Savanah’s.

As soon as he reached the front door, he knew leaving her had been a mistake, perhaps a fatal one. The smell of blood and death hung heavy in the air, and with it, the familiar scent of Vampire.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Savanah!”

Rane burst into the kitchen prepared for battle, only to find that it was already over. A female Vampire lay in a lifeless sprawl on the floor, a hawthorn stake driven deep into her heart. Savanah stood with her back against the kitchen table, her eyes wide and unfocused.

“Savanah?” Rane stepped over the body. “Are you all right?”

“Is she dead?”

“Pretty much.”

“I need to…”—the blood drained from Savanah’s face—“…to take her head to make sure.”

“What happened?”

Savanah looked up at him, her eyes wide, her face pale. “I was rinsing my dishes in the sink when she came up behind me. She grabbed me and tried to…to tie my hands together. She said someone, I can’t remember his name, was coming to…” She swayed unsteadily. “How could she come into the house? I didn’t invite her.”