“How is it possible for both of your parents to be Vampires?” The brown book had stated quite clearly that Vampires couldn’t reproduce, but Rane’s existence seemed to contradict that. She placed one hand over her stomach. She had been certain she couldn’t be pregnant, but what if she was wrong?

“How do you know about my parents?” he asked.

“It’s in one of the books.”

Ah, yes, the books, Rane thought. Aloud, he said, “My father turned my mother after I was grown.”

“Is Raphael Cordova your brother?”

Rane nodded, more certain than ever that the Vampire who had killed William Gentry had been looking for those accursed volumes.

“Did your father turn you, too?”

“No, being a Vampire was in my blood, and Rafe’s, from the day we were born.”

“How can that be?”

“My father had only been a Vampire a short time when he married my mother. It was his opinion that he had somehow retained enough of his humanity to father a child. Two, actually. Rafe and I are twins.”

“Oh.” Since Rane had been a Vampire for ninety years, it was doubtful he could have gotten her pregnant. “Why would a Vampire kill my father?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” Rane said dryly. “Your father was a hunter.” Even as he said the words, he wondered if that was the reason, or if Gentry had been killed because he refused to disclose the whereabouts of the books now resting under the sofa.

“But the war ended eighteen years ago. Why would anyone want to kill him now?”

“Eighteen years isn’t long to a Vampire,” Rane said.

Of course it wasn’t, Savanah thought. She didn’t know how long Vampires lived, but according to the black book, the Vampire, Mara, had lived for thousands of years with no end in sight.

Savanah tried to imagine what it would be like to live that long, but it was beyond her comprehension. These days, humans in good health could expect to live a hundred years or more, but to live for thousands of years…She wondered if Vampires ever got tired of living, of forever staying the same while the rest of the world evolved and grew older.

Curious, she put the question to Rane.

He frowned a moment before replying. “It depends on the Vampire. Like mortals, we’re all different, colored by the lives we led before we were turned. Some of us pursue education to keep our minds active. Some give up entirely to the lust for blood. Others never fully accept the change. Yearning for their old lifestyle, feeling alienated by the Dark Trick, they usually destroy themselves.”

“Do you have a lust for blood?”

Rane’s gaze moved to the pulse beating strongly in her throat. “Always.” He could see by her expression that the idea repulsed her on many levels.

“How can you do it? How can you prey on innocent people and drink their blood?”

“Once a Vampire is turned, it’s normal. Only those who don’t fully accept what they’ve become, or who try to cling to their humanity, are bothered by it.”

Savanah lifted a hand to her throat. “Have you ever wanted to drink my blood?”

“Every night.” He met her gaze, wondering what her reaction would be if she knew he had already tasted her—tasted her and yearned for more. He smiled inwardly. There was no need to wonder what her reaction would be. She would doubtless grab a stake and plunge it into his heart.

“Are there other Vampires in Kelton?”

“Would you expect me to tell you if there were?”

“No, I guess not.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. “Have you fully accepted being a Vampire?”

“I had little choice in the matter.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. Do you like it, being a Vampire?”

Rane shrugged. “I scarcely remember any other way of life.” He had forgotten what the sun felt like on his skin, what mortal food tasted like, what it was like to sleep at night. He had never had a regular job, and although he had a first-rate education, there weren’t many nighttime jobs that appealed to him. He had started pretending to be a magician because he could pick and choose where and when he wished to perform, and because he could work nights. Unlike his grandfather, he didn’t have a great deal of wealth. He didn’t own property or a home, didn’t own much more than his car and his clothing, but then, he didn’t need much, and his meals were free.

“Do you sleep in a coffin?”

“Not anymore.” Once he had decided to become a traveling magician, taking his rest in a casket became impractical.

“What do you sleep in now?”

“My underwear,” he replied, purposefully mistaking her meaning. He grinned when she scowled at him. “A bed, like most of my kind.” These days, most of the Undead had forsaken coffins for the comfort and roominess of king-size beds.

“Well, this has been very educational,” Savanah remarked.

“Are you convinced that I’m not going to hurt you?”

“I guess so.” She bit down on the inside corner of her lip, hesitant to ask the next question, but needing to be sure. “I couldn’t be pregnant, could I?”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that.”

To her chagrin, she felt more regret than relief.

“I suppose you’re hating yourself now for sleeping with a monster, and grateful that you don’t have to worry about carrying my child.”

She looked up, surprised by the undercurrent of hurt in his voice. “Rane…”

“I know what I am, Savanah. I know what you’re feeling. I know what you’re thinking, probably a hell of a lot better than you do.”

“You think so?” She stabbed a finger against his chest. “Do you really think so?”

“You’re repulsed by what I am and what I do to survive. You’re disgusted because you took me to your bed, you’re wondering if I drank your blood…” He swore softly. He hadn’t meant to mention that again.

Savanah blinked at him, and then her eyes narrowed. “Did you? Drink my blood?”

He went still, debating whether to tell her the truth or a lie. “I wouldn’t call it a drink, exactly,” he replied slowly. “More of a small taste.”

She stared at him. “When? How many times? Why don’t I remember it?”

“Several times, and you don’t remember it because I didn’t want you to, because I didn’t want to see the look in your eyes that I see now.”

“And you don’t call stealing my blood hurting me?”

“No.”

“I want to go home now.”

“And I want you to stay here.”

“You said I could go home when I was convinced you weren’t going to hurt me. And since you don’t consider stealing my blood hurting me, then I believe you. So give me my books and let me go.”

“It’s dangerous for you to be there alone, at night. And even more dangerous for you to have those damn books.”

Savanah stared at Rane a moment. The books, she thought. Of course. Her father’s murderer must have been looking for them. Why hadn’t she realized that sooner?

“You can sleep here tonight,” Rane said, “and go home in the morning.”

She would have argued, but she could tell by the obdurate expression on his face that it wouldn’t do her the least bit of good. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“As you wish. I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Fine.”

“I never should have laughed at you, Savanah Gentry,” he said, rising. “You have the heart of a warrior. I think you’ll put every other hunter that ever lived to shame.” He bowed in her direction, and then left the room.

Savanah stared after him. So, he thought she had the heart of a warrior, did he? Whether it was true or not remained to be seen. Still, she thought it might be the nicest compliment she had ever received.

She just hoped he was right.

Chapter Sixteen

Unable to sleep, Savanah flopped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. So much had happened in the last few weeks. She had met Rane. She had lost her father. She had discovered that her parents were Vampire hunters, and that the man she was falling in love with, the man she had slept with all too soon, was a Vampire.

And tomorrow morning, her father would be laid to rest. She couldn’t believe he was gone, that the one constant in her life had been taken from her. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. William Gentry had been a good provider, a loving husband and father. He had taught her right from wrong, told her what he expected, and let her make her own mistakes. He had trusted her judgment, and on those occasions when she had made the wrong decision, he had wiped her tears and put her on her feet again, admonishing her to remember what she had learned so she didn’t make the same mistake twice. He had praised her talents and encouraged her in everything she put her mind to, and now he was gone.

Tomorrow, she would pay her last respects and then, for the first time in her life, she would be truly alone.

Turning onto her side, she buried her face in the pillow and let the tears flow.

Savanah awoke late after a long and restless night. Her dreams had been dark and unsettling. At first, she had wandered through gray mists and ever-changing shadows, searching for something that was just out of reach, and then she had started running, hurrying through the darkness as if her life depended on it, fleeing from a faceless wraith clad in long black robes. Death, she thought, she had been running from Death.

Sitting up, she clutched the pillow to her chest. Was it Death who had pursued her so relentlessly, she wondered, or Rane?

A glance at her watch told her she didn’t have time to worry about it; her father’s funeral was only two hours away.

Tossing the pillow aside, she wasted several minutes looking for her mother’s books. She wasn’t surprised when she couldn’t find them. For all she knew, Rane had put some sort of Supernatural hex on the volumes. Drat the man’s Supernatural abilities. She could be looking right at the books and not know it.