He winced. “Sorry I spoiled the plan.”
She smiled. “No apologies necessary.”
Assuming Sarah wanted to listen in as she had before (he would, but then the other immortals claimed he was paranoid), Roland pressed the speakerphone button and dialed Marcus’s number.
On the fourth ring, an irritable voice hoarse with sleep answered. “What?”
“Marcus, it’s Roland.”
“Roland?” He sounded understandably surprised. It had been a decade or so since the two had last touched base. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
“Actually—”
“Wait. You only call me when you’re desperate. What happened?”
Roland looked askance at Sarah.
She smiled and whispered, “I’m beginning to see a pattern.”
“Who the hell was that?” Marcus demanded, shocked no doubt that Roland would have anyone, particularly a woman, with him during daylight hours.
“An innocent who came to my rescue.”
“You needed rescuing?”
“Yes, I’ll explain it all later. Right now I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to bring me some medical supplies,” he said meaningfully, then asked Sarah for her address and relayed it to Marcus.
“How badly are you injured?”
As Roland opened his mouth to respond, Sarah blurted out, “Badly.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I know that was rude, but I was afraid you were going to downplay it again.”
“How much blood have you lost, Roland?” Marcus pressed.
“A lot,” he admitted.
Sarah beamed her approval and patted his arm, making him smile.
“Can you hold out until evening?”
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“Okay. I’ll bring you everything you need tonight.”
“Great.”
Leaning forward, Sarah whispered, “Don’t forget clothes.”
“Right,” he said, distracted by her nearness. “I’m also going to need some clothes.”
There was a long silence.
“Clothes?” Marcus repeated.
“Yes.”
“Should I ask?”
“No.”
“Okay then,” he said, clearly amused. “Medical supplies and clothing. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Roland pressed the speakerphone button and returned the phone to the coffee table.
Sarah was watching him with a slight smile, her hazel eyes twinkling with merriment.
“I’m not antisocial,” he said. He really was, but it suddenly seemed important that she believe otherwise.
Her smile widened. “You just want to be left alone?”
“Not always,” he countered with a smile of his own. “Not today.”
“You’re just saying that because I baked you pizza,” she teased.
“In part,” he teased back and she laughed. “I don’t suppose you have any clothing that might fit me, do you? Marcus will never let me hear the end of it if I’m wearing nothing but a sheet when he arrives.”
“No. Yes. Well … nnno. I thought maybe the long-sleeved shirt I had on when I found you might fit you, but you’re a lot bigger than my ex.”
“Ex-husband?”
“Ex-boyfriend. And everything else I have is my size.”
Nodding absently, he couldn’t resist asking, “Is there a current boyfriend I should worry about coming home and finding me naked on your futon?” Subtle.
“No. What about you? Is your wife or girlfriend going to give you grief when she finds out you spent the day with me?”
“No wife or girlfriend,” he responded automatically, surprised she would ask.
Was she interested in him?
If so, why? He was a mess and she could very well have gotten killed trying to help him.
“I had a friend in Houston who was with HPD, and he said women always seemed to react badly when he told them he was a policeman. I guess the whole relationship thing must be even harder for you since so much of what you do has to be kept hush-hush.”
You have no idea. “It does tend to complicate things.”
She stifled another yawn.
“Would you like to go lie down?” he asked. “I’m fine now that you’ve patched me up.”
“You are not fine,” she protested with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re in pain. You’re miserable. And there’s no way I’m going to leave you alone. Until your friend comes by tonight, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
He smiled. “Quite a pleasant fate, I admit.”
She smiled back and started gathering their napkins onto the pizza tray. “Why don’t I clear some of this mess away? Then we can watch a movie or find something on TV to help pass the time.”
“Sounds good.” Heart light despite the many aches bombarding him, he watched her carry the tray to the kitchen.
Chapter 4
Roland awoke as the sun was setting, his body wracked with pain. It took several minutes of intense concentration before he was able to distance himself from it enough to open his eyes and take in his surroundings.
The television was on, tuned to a news channel, the volume low.
He was lying on his back on the futon, his left leg bent at the knee and resting against the cushioned back. His right leg was stretched out with his foot hanging off the end. What utterly astonished him and nearly made him forget the pain, however, was Sarah, who was sprawled atop him, peacefully ensconced in slumber.
Her cheek was pillowed by his chest. Emitting a pleasant citrus scent, her hair again clung to his stubbled jaw and fell across his shoulder in curly disarray. One of her small hands loosely clutched his shoulder. The other was tucked into his side. Her full breasts warmed his stomach. Her hips rested against his groin, arousing him despite his discomfort.
Damn, but it felt good.
Giving in to temptation, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her silky hair.
She stirred, her hand tightening on his shoulder as she snuggled closer, then fell still.
He hadn’t slept with a woman in the literal sense in over nine centuries, refusing to let down his guard enough to experience such intimacy as this. Not even with Mary, who had feigned such devotion. He had obeyed the proprieties when he had courted Mary and, fearing her reaction when she found out what he was, had never left himself so vulnerable.
But Sarah didn’t know what he was and he had no intention of telling her. He didn’t want to see the same loathing in her eyes that had darkened Beatrice’s or the fear that had widened Mary’s.
To Sarah, he was just a man.
His body hardened even more when he remembered the way her heartbeat had sped up at his touch.
Her pulse was slow and steady now, the blood in her veins calling him to come and satiate his hunger. As he listened to the steady thrum of it, his own heart began to pound.
Roland slid one hand up her back, tunneling through soft, thick curls, and rested his fingers upon the satiny skin of her neck just over her pulse.
What would she taste like? Sweet like her smiles? Or spicy like her daring spirit?
Would drinking from her merely dull the pain? Or would it set him aflame?
His body was struggling to heal itself. The need for blood lacerated him.
Roland felt his fangs descend and lengthen.
Just one taste. Sarah is sleeping. She need never know.
He could ease her up his chest, lower his lips to the delicate skin of her throat….
Groaning, Roland drew his tongue across her pulse … then froze.
Rearing back, he stared down at her in dismay.
When had he moved her?
One second he had been wondering what she would taste like and the next his lips had been on her flesh. Was he that close to losing control?
He forced his fangs to retract.
“Sarah.” He shook her gently.
She didn’t rouse.
Something like panic struck him. Had he already drunk from her? Was he so far gone that he had drained her and not even been aware of it?
Brushing the hair back from her face and neck, he searched for but found no bite marks. His wounds weren’t healing either, so he couldn’t have fed yet.
“Sarah,” he said louder.
“Hmmm.”
“Sarah,” he practically shouted.
Her eyes flew open, rising to meet his. “What?”
Roland almost laughed, he was so relieved. She was just a sound sleeper.
She blinked three times, then gave him a sleepy smile. “Oh. Hi.”
He smiled back. “Hello.”
Wait for it….
Her eyes widened as Morpheus released his hold and she became aware of her position. “Oh! I fell asleep!”
“We both did.”
“But I fell asleep on you.”
“And normally I wouldn’t complain, but you’re putting pressure on my cracked ribs.”
A blush climbed her cheeks. “I am so sorry!”
Sarah sought a place to put her hands that wouldn’t harm Roland as she endeavored to rise. When her shifting and squirming made her aware of the heavy erection that was pressing into her stomach, she stilled. Her eyes flew up to meet his.
“Yyyeah. Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “I can’t help it. You’re a beautiful woman and my body is reacting accordingly.”
His wasn’t the only one. Her mouth went dry at the feel of him. Heat pooled low in her belly.
His smile fell away.
Sarah swallowed hard as she held his gaze, then …
Her breath caught.
His eyes were glowing—actually glowing—with a strange amber incandescence.
Hurtling herself up and off him, she scooted backward until the cold metal arm of the futon hit her butt.
A veil descended over his features as he sat up. “What is it?”
Her heart trip-hammering with alarm, Sarah virtually leapt off the futon to place more distance between them. “Your eyes.”