Roshan was waiting for her when she stepped out of the trying-on place. She stood there, wearing a pair of jeans and a pretty dark green sweater, waiting for his reaction, surprised to find that she cared what he thought. She had never worn pants before. Though they were very snug and felt very odd, she had liked them immediately. Still, she couldn't help glancing around, wondering if people were staring at her, scandalized that the shape of her legs and her buttocks were clearly outlined for all to see, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all, no one but Roshan. Embarrassed by his frank gaze, she looked down at her feet. Never before had she worn shoes that felt so light, almost as if she were barefoot.
When she looked up again, Roshan smiled at her. "You look terrific," he said, his voice husky. "Beautiful."
His words filled her with pleasure. "I feel very strange."
"Did you get everything you need?"
She glanced over her shoulder to where the saleslady stood, her arms laden with clothing. "I think I have far more than I need."
"Just let me pay for all this," he said, laughing.
"With what will you pay her?"
"Money, of course." He held up what looked like a piece of small, hard paper. "This is a credit card. I give them this card and they send me a bill for the amount due."
She nodded. She had rarely seen money. A few shillings now and then, a Spanish rial once. At home, she'd had little need for coin. She had bartered her potions for foodstuffs and other essentials.
Roshan followed the woman to a large desk and handed her his credit card. She gave him a piece of paper, which he signed, and then she returned his credit card.
Brenna watched the woman fold everything and place it in large sacks made of some strange material. Brenna looked at Roshan speculatively. "You must be very rich."
"I have enough to get by," he said, gathering up the bags. "Are you ready to go?"
She nodded.
"Is there anything else you want to see or do?" Roshan asked as they walked through the mall.
"I do not think so."
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
Roshan glanced around. If there was one thing of which he was completely ignorant, it was the kinds of food offered in places like McDonald's and Burger King. There was a place selling chicken, another selling pizza by the pie or the slice.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked, sickened by the myriad smells of so much food being prepared in such a small area.
She glanced around, obviously as confused as he. "I do not know."
"Well, come on," he said, and headed for a stand that sold hamburgers and hot dogs. He ordered her one of each, a side of fries, a chocolate shake, and a glass of water, then found an empty table.
Brenna stared at the food on the tray, then looked over at Roshan. "Do you expect me to eat all of this?"
"I didn't know what you would like, so… " He pointed to each item, telling her what it was. "Taste it all. Eat what you want and leave the rest. If you don't like any of it, we'll go somewhere else."
She picked up the hamburger and took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and took another bite.
She finished the hamburger, the malt, the fries, and half the hot dog, then sat back with a sigh.
"I guess you liked everything," Roshan mused dryly.
"It was very good, especially the malt."
He grunted softly. Chocolate. Most women seemed to like it, though he had no idea why.
They visited several other stores before leaving the mall. He let Brenna pick out a comb and a brush. He also bought her a toothbrush, a toaster, and an iron, explaining what each of them was used for. In addition, he bought a set of silverware, figuring that she would soon tire of using cheap plastic utensils.
She clung to his arm as they took the escalator down to the first floor.
Brenna was a little less tense in the car on the ride back to his house. She asked numerous questions, mostly about the people and the customs of this time. When they reached the house, Morgana was waiting for them on the front porch.
Roshan carried the packages inside, then turned on the TV, thinking it was probably the best way for her to learn what life was like in this century.
As soon as Brenna sat down, Morgana jumped into her lap, meowing loudly.
Brenna stroked Morgana until the cat settled down, then turned her attention to the pictures on the TV screen. She watched avidly, her eyes wide, while Roshan went from channel to channel, explaining, as best he could, what she was seeing— airplanes and buses, trains and motorcycles, telephones, vacuum cleaners, washing machines and dryers, cell phones and pagers. After surfing the channels for a while, he settled on a recent movie, figuring that it would help her understand how people lived in this day and age.
After awhile, Brenna lost interest in the images she was watching. Instead, she found herself sliding glances at Roshan. He had a strong profile, rugged and masculine.
She wondered if he liked being a vampire. He had told her he had no vampire friends. It seemed unlikely that he would have mortal friends. Did he then spend all his time alone?
She knew little of what that was like, could not imagine living without friends or family for hundreds of years. Such a lonely existence. She wondered why anyone would want to live like that.
"Brenna?" His voice scattered her thoughts and she realized she had been staring at him. "Is something wrong?"
"Everything," she replied. "I do not belong in this time or this place." She stroked the cat's head. "I do not think I will ever belong."
"Sure you will. It might take a little while for you to get used to it, but you're young. You'll learn."
A single tear slid down her cheek and dripped onto the cat's head.
"Ah, Brenna." Reaching for her, he drew her into his arms. At first, she held herself away from him but then, with a sigh, she collapsed against his chest. With a low hiss, Morgana slipped out from between them and curled up in front of the hearth.
Brenna's tears dampened his shirt. Her scent filled his nostrils, not the scent of her blood, but the scent of her skin, and her sorrow. He stroked her hair, ran his hand down her spine, felt her shiver in response to his touch.
Placing one finger under her chin, he tilted her head back, his gaze meeting hers.
Though a maiden innocent in the ways of men, her eyes revealed that she recognized the heat in his.
She shook her head as he leaned toward her. "No."
"No?"
"Kissing," she said with a grimace. "I like it not."
"Indeed?" He cupped her head in his hands. "Perhaps I can change your mind," he murmured, and claimed her lips with his own.
Eyes wide open, Brenna braced her hands against his shoulders, prepared to push him away, but at the first touch of his mouth on hers, all thought of pushing him away fled her mind. His lips were cool yet heat flooded her being, arousing a fluttering in her stomach she had never felt before, making her press herself against him.
Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his waist, wanting to hold him closer, tighter. She melted against him, hoping the kiss would never end, a distant part of her mind trying to determine why John Linder's kiss had not filled her with liquid fire the way Roshan's did. But it was only a vague thought, quickly gone, as Roshan deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over her lower lip. She gasped at the thrill of pleasure that engulfed her, moaned softly as he repeated the gesture.
She was breathless when he took his lips from her. Lost in a world of sensation, her head still reeling, she stared up at him.
"More," she whispered.
"I thought you didn't like kissing."
"I was never kissed like this." Feeling suddenly bold, she slid her hand around his nape. "Kiss me again."
He was only too happy to oblige. She was soft and sweet, eager to explore the sensual pleasures that were new to her. Without taking his mouth from hers, he stretched out on the sofa, drawing her down with him so that they lay side by side. He could almost feel her untapped passion coming to life as she moved against him, her body instinctively molding itself to his.
He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her back to her buttocks, drawing her closer against him, letting her feel the evidence of his rising desire.
She moaned softly, a husky sound of longing and trepidation all rolled into one.
He was moving too fast for her, he knew it, but couldn't seem to stop. He wanted her, here and now, with her eyes wide and a little afraid, her lips swollen from his kisses.
"Brenna…?" He could have seduced her with his preternatural power, but he didn't want her that way. He wanted her warm and willing in his arms, in his bed.
She blinked up at him, her eyes cloudy with desire.
"Do you want me to stop?"
She considered for a moment, and then nodded.
He wasn't surprised, but he couldn't help feeling disgruntled. Though he was no longer mortal, he was still a man, still possessed of a man's needs. Living alone, unwilling to place his trust in anyone for fear of being betrayed, his encounters with women were usually one-night affairs. He had no trouble finding women. They were drawn to him without knowing why. Of course, there were always bars like the Nocturne that catered to those who fancied they were children of the night. The women wore long black dresses, black lipstick, and lots of dark eye shadow. Some of them sported fake fangs. The men wore black leather or long black capes and bristled with attitude. The Nocturne was one of his favorite haunts. It was one of the few places where he could be himself.
He kissed her one more time, then, taking a deep breath, he gained his feet.
"It's late," he said. "You should get some sleep."
She sat up, not quite meeting his eyes. "You are angry with me."
"No." He offered her his hand, felt a rush of heat flow up his arm when she placed her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet.
Still holding her hand, he walked her up the stairs to his bedroom. He kissed her again because he had no power to resist. She didn't move when he broke the kiss, only stood there, looking slightly confused. Grunting softly, he gave her a little push into the room, then closed the door behind her.