With a sigh, she dumped the pan of bloody water down the toilet, then turned out the lights and closed the door behind her. She carried the pan into the kitchen and rinsed it out, then went upstairs where she took a quick shower, slipped into her nightgown, and brushed her teeth. She stood there a minute, staring at herself in the mirror over the sink as the night’s events replayed in her mind. If she called Jolie and told her what had happened, Jolie would never believe it in a million years. If Mr. Van Black printed the story in the paper, people would assume it was fiction.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she, too, found it hard to believe.

With a sigh, she went to bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, only to lie there, staring up at the ceiling, while the house settled around her. She heard the wind rustling the leaves of the tree outside her window, the tick-tick of the clock on the nightstand, a distant siren, the howling of a dog.

But it was thoughts of Rane that kept her awake as one hour slipped into the next. Rafe and Mara had assured her that Rane would recover, but what if they were wrong?

Rising, Savanah pulled on her robe, then padded barefooted down the stairs. She paused at the foot of the banister, wondering if Rafe and Mara had returned, but she had no sense of their presence as she moved quickly down the hallway to her father’s room and opened the door.

Rane lay on the bed as before, unmoving.

Savanah stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Rafe and Mara had both given Rane their blood and it hadn’t wrought any visible change in his condition. What made her think that her blood, her weak, mortal blood, would make a difference when the blood of the Queen of the Vampires had failed to heal him?

And yet she had to try.

Moving into the room, she sat on the edge of the bed. Murmuring Rane’s name, she stroked his brow, and then lifted his head into her lap. Too late, she realized she should have stopped in the kitchen for a knife with which to make an incision in her flesh since she was pretty sure she couldn’t do it with her thumbnail.

She started to get up, then remembered that her father had always kept a pocketknife in his nightstand, a keep-sake from his childhood scouting days. Opening the drawer, she picked up the knife. The blade was small and very sharp.

Taking a deep breath, she made a shallow cut in her left wrist.

Recalling what Rafe had done, she held her wrist to Rane’s lips and murmured, “Drink, Rane.”

The scent of her blood cut through the pain as cleanly as a surgeon’s scalpel. Like a blind pup, he followed the smell, then latched on to the source. The warmth slid down his throat—living blood, pure and fresh, as rich and smooth as the finest wine. The beat of her heart was like music to his ears. This was what he needed, what he had yearned for. The pain fled, leaving him weak. And grateful.

He murmured her name, then sank down into blessed, healing, oblivion.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Savanah woke late the following afternoon. She had spent the night at Rane’s side, wanting to be there if he regained consciousness. It was a strange experience, sleeping beside a Vampire, wondering if he knew she was there. Wondering what her parents would think if they knew she was in love with one of the Undead. Of course, she knew what they would think. They would be appalled.

Vampires had killed her parents; she had sworn to follow in her mother’s footsteps and yet, instead of taking Rane’s head, she had given him her blood, and would do so again and as often as needed to prolong his existence.

After she showered and dressed, she went into the kitchen to fix a late breakfast, surprised at how hungry and thirsty she was. No doubt her increased appetite was due to the fact that she had given Rane her blood the night before. She didn’t know how much he had taken, but she had been light-headed and unsteady on her feet when it was over, and terribly thirsty, so much so that she had downed almost a quart of orange juice.

She had just finished putting her dishes into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.

Savanah couldn’t hide her surprise at seeing Mara and Rafe standing in the sunlight on her front porch.

Stepping back, she invited them in. She was glad to see Rafe, less so to see Mara. Preternatural power radiated from the other woman. It was disconcerting, and frightening. Mara carried herself with the air of a queen granting favors.

Taking her courage in hand, Savanah followed the two Vampires into the living room.

Mara took a seat on the sofa and Rafe sat beside her.

“How is Rane?” Rafe asked. “Is there any change?”

“I think he’s better.” Savanah perched on the edge of the chair. “I gave him some of my blood last night.”

Mara and Rafe exchanged glances.

Savanah lifted her chin defiantly. “You got a problem with that?”

Mara looked at Rafe and smiled, revealing strong, even white teeth. “Oh, I like her.”

Rafe grinned. “Me, too.”

Feeling as though she had just passed some kind of test, Savanah glanced from one to the other.

“I’m going in to see Rane,” Rafe said, “and leave you two to get acquainted.”

Savanah felt a moment of anxiety at the thought of being alone in the room with the most powerful Vampire in the world, but she quickly shook it off. She was tired of being afraid, refused to be intimidated in her own home.

“You must have questions you’d like to ask,” Mara said, “if not about me, then about Vampires in general, or perhaps about Rane, in particular.”

“How did you get into my house last night without an invitation?”

“All those silly rules no longer have any effect on me,” Mara said. “I come and go as I please, when I please, where I please.”

“Rane said you were truly immortal.”

“As close as you can get,” Mara said with a faint grin.

“So, you can’t be destroyed?”

“Are you planning to try?”

Mara’s tone was mild, but Savanah heard the steel underneath.

“No, I’m just curious. If you’re immortal, then I guess that means that holy water doesn’t have any effect on you the way it does on Rane, and that a stake through your heart is just a minor injury.”

“Something like that,” Mara allowed, her grin widening.

“Rane said you were born in the time of Cleopatra.”

“Actually, I was made the same year she became Egypt’s queen. I spent my early years as a slave in the house of Chuma, one of the King’s advisors, until he gave me to one of his trusted allies. Shortly thereafter, a Vampire brought me across against my will. I killed him for it and gained my freedom. As for Cleopatra, I admired her greatly, and so I arranged to meet her. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman only a few years younger than I when she became the ruler of Egypt. To adhere to the law of the time, she was forced to have a consort while she reigned, either a son or a brother, and so it was that she married her brother Ptolemy when he was twelve. Of course, everyone knows the story, how she refused to share her throne, how she captivated Caesar and bore him a son, how she seduced Mark Antony after Caesar was killed.”

Mara paused a moment, her thoughts obviously turned inward. “It was a sad day when Antony was defeated. Soon after, Cleopatra was taken to Octavian. He informed her that he had no interest in any relationship with her, personal or otherwise. He intended to place her in chains and display her in all the cities she had once ruled over. I offered to bring her across, but the heart had gone out of her. Caesar was dead and Antony was dead and her son, Caesarion, had been killed. And so it was that she chose to die by the bite of an asp, believing, as the Egyptians did, that those who died by snakebite would never be forgotten.” Mara sighed. “In that, at least, she succeeded.”

Savanah stared at the Vampire. If what Mara said was true, she was over two thousand years old. It was inconceivable.

Savanah was about to ask Mara about Rane’s parents when Rafe entered the room.

“He looks much better,” Rafe said, taking a seat beside Mara. “The pain is gone. I think Savanah’s blood was just what he needed.”

Mara nodded. “Amazing, what love can do,” she remarked, her words tinged with a hint of wonder. “I’ve never really understood it.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” Savanah asked in amazement. Surely, in two thousand years, Mara must have been in love at least once.

“Mara?” Rafe looked at her, one brow arched, as he waited for her answer.

“There was a man, a long time ago…” She shook her head, as if to dispel the memory. “I’ve never let myself care too much for any of the mortal lovers that I’ve taken in the past. I’ve never trusted those of my own kind….”

“Not even me?” Rafe asked with a teasing grin.

Mara ignored him. “I’m not sure I’m capable of love, not in the way you love Kathy, or the way Savanah seems to care for Rane, but now…”

Rafe glanced at Savanah and winked before nudging Mara in the side. “Go on.”

“I met a man in Egypt,” she said with a wistful smile. “Perhaps he’s the one I’ve been waiting for. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Rane.”

Before either of them could ask her more questions, Mara flowed out of the room. There really was no other word for the way she moved, Savanah thought. It was as if her feet didn’t touch the floor.

“She’s quite remarkable,” Savanah mused.

“Do you think she’s finally fallen in love?”

“You know her better than I do. What do you think?”

“He would have to be quite a guy. So, are you going to marry my brother?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t asked me.”

“And if he did?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be what he is, and as much as I love him, I’m not sure we’d ever be truly happy together. We’ve only known each other a short time.”

And for most of that time, her life had been in danger. They had been on the run, hiding from those who had killed her father. It had added a touch of danger to their lovemaking, made everything seem more urgent. Now that Clive was dead and the books were safe, she couldn’t help wondering what effect it would have on her relationship with Rane. Was it really love she felt for him, or just a lingering crush on the magician who had so fascinated her when she’d been a little girl? Or maybe gratitude because he had been there when she needed someone to lean on, someone to dry her tears and help her find her way in a world that had turned upside down?