He was watching her, his expression impassive, yet she had the uncanny feeling that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "Have you changed your mind?"
Had she? Did she want to be alone tonight? "No, no." She smiled. "I'll just be a minute."
She hurried out of the room and down the hall to the linen closet. There, she paused, one hand over her pounding heart. Please, Lord, let me be doing the right thing.
She pulled a sheet and a blanket out of the closet, along with an extra pillow and a clean pillowcase. Then, taking a deep, calming breath, she returned to the living room.
He was standing where she had left him.
Discomfited by the silence, she switched on the TV. The familiar voices of the cast of Friends filled the silence as she set about making up the couch and fluffing the pillow, all too aware of Antonio's nearness. She knew he was watching her every move. His gaze was almost tangible, like invisible fingers stroking her back, caressing her nape.
"There." She turned to face him. "I hope you'll be comfortable."
"Do not worry about me," he said.
She wondered if anyone had ever worried about him. He was tall and broad-shouldered.
Strength and confidence fairly oozed from every pore. She had no doubt that he could look out for himself, and yet, far below the surface, she sensed a vulnerability. Or maybe she was just imagining it because it made him seem more human… She frowned, wondering where that thought had come from. Perhaps she was more tired than she thought!
"Well." She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "Goodnight."
"Buona notte."
Battista watched her leave the room, his gaze resting on the sweet sway of her hips, and then he shook his head. He was not here to admire her beauty or to seduce her. He was here to protect her, nothing more. But her image danced in his mind, the womanly scent of her hair and skin lingered in his nostrils.
To distract himself, he switched off the television, then strolled through the house, noting that she was a tidy housekeeper and that she favored the color mauve and had a fondness for candles and clocks. The living room was rectangular. Aside from the TV
set, there were a high-backed sofa and a chair. A table held a lamp with a mauve shade. The furniture was mismatched but somehow blended together to create a homey atmosphere. A pair of tall bookcases were crammed with books, everything from cookbooks and dictionaries to literary fiction and murder mysteries.
The kitchen was small and neat and contained all the usual appliances. Two chairs flanked a round table covered with a mauve cloth. He peeked into the bathroom, then opened the door into what was meant to be a second bedroom, only there was no bed.
A computer desk took up most of one wall. Two racks framed the single window, one filled with CDs, the other with DVDs. A large aquarium sat on a wrought-iron stand.
Several pictures hung on the walls, including an autographed black-and-white photo of a man dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, and one of Victoria standing between a man and a woman that Antonio assumed were her parents.
Moving silently up the stairs, he paused outside Victoria 's bedroom door. Closing his eyes, he listened to the even sound of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, the quiet hum of blood flowing through her veins. His fangs pricked his tongue as his thirst roared to life, aroused by the scent of the crimson river beyond the door, the nearness of prey.
Needing to put some distance between them, he left the house. Standing below her bedroom window, he wondered what Victoria would think if she could see him now, with the lust for blood burning in his eyes. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to take Victoria into his arms, to inhale her scent, to taste the salty sweetness of her skin, hear the accelerated beat of her heart as he took his first taste…
With a low growl, he thrust the image aside. He needed to feed and soon, but it would have to wait. He couldn't take a chance on leaving her alone, not with Falco out there.
Hands clenched into tight fists, he took several deep breaths, willing his hunger into submission.
He was about to go back into the house when an instinct born of hundreds of years told him he was no longer alone. Lifting his head, he sniffed the wind, sorting through the myriad smells of the night— damp grass, trees, earth, rotting vegetation, the stink of human waste common to civilization.
He turned slowly, his preternatural senses filtering through the mundane until he pinpointed the inhuman scent of one of his own kind.
"Falco." The name whispered past his lips.
Mocking laughter echoed on the heels of the night wind. "I am here, Battista. Come, meet with me, brother. Let us speak of the delectable damsel who lies sleeping within the house."
"Be gone, Falco. She will never be yours."
"Women throughout the ages have been mine." Again, the sound of mocking laughter rose on the wind. "No woman I desired has ever escaped me, brother."
"You will not have her!"
"You cannot stop me, Battista."
Antonio started forward, then paused. Haring off into the darkness and leaving Victoria unprotected was exactly what Falco wanted.
Muttering an oath, Battista dissolved into mist. In less than a heartbeat, he was inside Victoria 's bedroom.
He materialized beside her bed, once again fighting the almost overpowering urge to surrender to the need that burned within him, to take her in his embrace, to taste her and touch her until he knew every delicious curve and contour of her body, every unexpressed hope, every unspoken dream.
Turning away from the bed, he sat on the floor as far away from her as he could get. He would not leave her room until the sunrise was upon him. He had never met Dimitri Falco, but he knew the creature's reputation. Falco was relentless in his pursuit of prey.
But he would not have Victoria.
Not this night, or any other.
Chapter 10
Dimitri Falco ghosted through the night. Leaving Pear Blossom Creek behind, he stalked the dark streets of the neighboring town. At this time of night, the only people out and about were those who enforced the law and those endeavoring to break it.
He found what he was looking for on a street corner.
He smoothed his hair and put on his most winning smile as he approached her.
Her gaze moved over him in a quick assessment, noting the cut of his clothes, his expensive shoes. "Hi, honey," she purred. "What's a handsome guy like you doing out so late?"
"What do you think?"
She tilted her head to one side. "You tell me."
He grinned at her. "I'm not the law, if that's what you're thinking."
She laughed softly. "Oh, honey, I know that."
He lifted a handful of her hair, let the silky strands slide through his fingers. "Beautiful,"
he murmured. "Is it dyed?"
"Dyed?" She looked insulted, and then she smiled. It was a blatantly seductive smile.
"For fifty dollars, I can prove it's natural."
"Sounds like a bargain to me."
"I'll take the money first."
With a nod, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill.
Her eyes widened as he placed it in her hand. "I can't break that."
"Keep it." He reached for her hand, his fingers curling around hers in a grip that made her wince as he began to walk, dragging her behind him.
She tried to wrest her hand from his. "My house is the other way."
"My house is this way."
"But… "
"You don't want me to change my mind about that extra fifty, do you?"
She considered that a moment, then nodded. "All right, honey, as long as you're not into anything kinky."
"Kinky," he murmured. "We shall see."
Chapter 11
Tom Duncan swore under his breath as he read the morning paper. A woman had been murdered and drained of blood in the next town. Had Falco tired of hunting in a small town like Pear Blossom Creek and decided to move on to a bigger place, or was he just expanding his hunting grounds?
With a shake of his head, Duncan tossed the paper aside. He had searched Pear Blossom Creek from east to west and north to south. He had explored every inch of Hellfire Hollow, poked into every abandoned building, looked into every cave and crevice, but he hadn't found a thing. Zip, zilch, nada. Not a trace of Falco.
Finishing his coffee, he dropped a couple of dollars on the table to pay for his meal and left the cafe.
Outside, he took a deep breath. "Okay, vampire hunter," he muttered to himself. "Hunt."
The sound of church bells woke Vicki. Bolting upright, she glanced at the clock, then bounded out of bed. She was going to be late for early Mass. Again.
After dressing quickly, she skipped breakfast and left the house. Jumping into her car, she put the pedal to the metal, only to be pulled over when she was three blocks away from the church.
August "Augie" Ryan was shaking his head as he approached her car. "Vicki, where in tarnation are you going in such a rush on a quiet Sunday morning?"
Vicki looked up at him through the window. Augie was the oldest policeman in town.
Augie was a big teddy bear of a man, with twinkling blue eyes and a winning smile. By rights, he should have retired years ago, but the people of Pear Blossom Creek wouldn't hear of it, and since his youngest son was the mayor and his oldest son was the chief of police, it was pretty much a given that Augie would be around until he was ready to retire.
Vicki summoned her sweetest smile. "I was on my way to Mass, of course. Where else would I be going on a quiet Sunday morning?" Where else, indeed, since everything was closed except the corner cafe and the hospital.
"Now, honey, you're just lucky it is Sunday and there's no one else on the road. Girl, you might have caused an accident a 'speeding along that way."
"But I didn't, and I'm really late, so can I go?"
"I should write you up this time, you know that, don't you? It would serve you right."