Kadie woke late after a surprisingly restful sleep. She had slept like the proverbial log, with no dreams that she could recall.

She stared up at the high ceiling. It was Sunday. Had she been at home, she would have eaten a late breakfast, read the paper, taken her little sister, Kathy, to church, if Kathy was feeling up to it. After lunch, she would have gone through her latest batch of photos, deciding which to keep, sorting them into groups, deciding if the pictures deserved a story and where she would send them. In the evening, after dinner, she would have read her e-mail, updated her Web site, maybe played cards with her mom and dad after Kathy went to bed. Her parents must be worried sick. She had promised to call as soon as she reached Wyoming.

Sitting up, she glanced around the room. She hadn't paid much attention to it before. It was a nice-enough room, large, with bare, off-white walls. The rug was deep green; matching drapes hung at the single window. The four-poster bed looked like an antique, as did the rocking chair in the corner. But maybe that was to be expected, since the owner of the house was somewhat of an antique himself! An old-fashioned mirror stood in one corner. What was that doing here, she wondered, since it was commonly believed that vampires had no reflection.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She had a horrible taste in her mouth. After her grand exit from the kitchen last night, she had been too upset to wash up properly. Now, she was eager to shower and brush her teeth.

She did so quickly, thinking how much she hated Rylan Saintcrow for keeping her here.

Exiting the shower, she slipped into her bathrobe, then stepped into the hallway.

Were there bedrooms behind the other five doors? Did Saintcrow sleep in one of them?

Curious, she padded down the carpeted corridor, peering into each room. They were all furnished much the same as hers, and appeared to be unoccupied. Why did he need so many bedrooms when he lived alone? Had he once kept a harem?

In the kitchen, Kadie put on a pot of coffee. She scrambled a couple of eggs, made some toast, poured a glass of orange juice. While looking for the silverware the day before, she found the catalogs Saintcrow had mentioned. He had brochures and catalogs from dozens of stores and manufacturers from coast to coast. She couldn't help thinking that shopping online would have been a whole lot easier.

She browsed through several while she ate. He had told her she could have anything she wanted. She quickly made a list-a sofa from Jonathan Adler that cost a mere $3900.00, along with an equally expensive love seat and armchair, a pair of end tables, new lamps, a kitchen table and one chair (Mr. Saintcrow could stand, thank you very much-he didn't eat, anyway). She added a portable DVD player and fifty DVDs, a blender, a microwave, a new set of silverware, a set of Spode Blue Italian china, Egyptian cotton sheets for the bed, sage green towels for the bathroom, ten bars of imported soap, a bottle of Clive Christian No. 1 perfume (the world's most expensive fragrance-a steal at only $2150.00 a bottle), the same scent worn by actress Katie Holmes on her wedding day. Lastly, she added a diamond tennis bracelet, something she had always wanted but could never afford.

Kadie sat back, smiling. She couldn't wait to see Saintcrow's face when he read her list.

"Is this all?" Saintcrow asked as he perused the items she had selected.

Kadie stared at him. If she had hoped to anger him or get a rise out of him, she had failed miserably.

He folded her list and stuffed it into his pants pocket. "What would you like to do this evening?"

"Do?"

"I thought you might like to get out of the house. Have you eaten dinner?"

" No."

"There's a nice little Italian restaurant not far from here. Would you like to go?"

"You mean, leave Morgan Creek?" she asked, her mind racing.

"If you'd like."

"I would! Just let me change clothes." Not that she had anything really nice to wear. When she'd left home, she hadn't planned on eating out in nice restaurants, or being gone long enough to need anything other than jeans, T-shirts, and boots.

But she had packed one nice pair of black slacks and a blue silk shirt, just in case, and she donned them now, along with a pair of black sandals. She brushed her hair and her teeth, applied fresh makeup, then scowled at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? Was she actually dressing up for him?

"Of course not," she told her reflection. "I'm doing it for me." She grabbed her handbag. If things went as planned, she wouldn't be coming back here tonight. She hated to leave her cameras behind, but it was a small price to pay for her freedom.

Saintcrow stood when she entered the room. A flash of admiration gleamed in his eyes when he saw her. She ignored it, just as she ignored his hand when he offered it to her.

In the car, she stared out the window, refusing to be drawn into conversation with him. She didn't know what he was up to, or why he was being so nice, but she was sure he had some ulterior motive.

They crossed the bridge with no trouble at all.

Kadie felt a sense of anticipation as they approached a red light. With as much stealth as she could muster, she took hold of the door handle, held her breath as the car slowed to a stop.

Now! She jerked on the handle.

And nothing happened.

She tried again, with the same result.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, she slid a sideways glance at Saintcrow. He was looking straight ahead, but she didn't miss the wry grin on his face. He had known, she thought. He had known all along that she would try to escape and so he'd used some of that notorious vampire mojo to thwart her.

Anger and frustration rose up within her, threatening to explode like a cork from a bottle. She took several deep breaths. If only she had a dagger, she thought darkly, she would cheerfully drive it into his black heart.

"I had no idea you were such a bloodthirsty little baggage," he remarked mildly.

She glared at him. "Stop reading my mind!"

"It's hard not to when you broadcast so loudly." Minutes later, he pulled off the freeway and into the restaurant parking lot.

Inside, Saintcrow asked for a table for two.

In spite of her anger, Kadie couldn't help noticing it was a lovely place as she followed the hostess. Murals of Italy covered the walls, the tables were spread with red-and-white checkered cloths. Music played in the background.

The hostess handed them menus and assured them that their waitress would be there shortly.

Kadie put her menu aside without looking at it.

"Have you already decided?" Saintcrow asked.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"So, you only agreed to this in hopes of escaping." It wasn't a question.

She stared at him, mute, her hope of freedom shattered.

The waitress arrived just then. "Buona sera," she said, smiling as she placed a basket of garlic bread in the center of the table. "Have you decided yet? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

"A bottle of your best chardonnay," Saintcrow said.

"Very good, sir." The waitress looked at Kadie askance.

"You may as well eat," Saintcrow said.

"Spaghetti and meatballs," Kadie said sullenly.

"Soup or salad?"

"Salad, please, with Italian dressing. And iced tea, no lemon."

"And for you, sir?"

"Just the wine."

With a nod, the waitress collected their menus and left the table.

Kadie spread her napkin in her lap. "You knew what I had in mind all the time, didn't you?"

He nodded. "It wasn't too hard to figure out."

"They told me no one has ever left Morgan Creek. Is that true?"

"You have."

"You know what I mean."

"No, no one's ever left."

"Do you think that's right, keeping us all prisoners for your amusement?"

"I'm no longer concerned with right and wrong the way you know it."

"Of course not. You're a . . ." She glanced around. "What you are. I guess the rules the rest of us live by don't apply to you."

"Exactly."

Kadie bit back her retort when the waitress arrived with the wine, Kadie's iced tea, and salad.

Saintcrow poured a glass of wine for himself, then looked at Kadie.

She shook her head.

"Are you sure? It's a very good year."

"I don't like wine. I don't like you, and I never will."

"You might not like me," he said quietly, "but you want me."

"I do not!" she said hotly.

"You can lie to yourself, Kadie, but you can't lie to me." He leaned forward, his gaze intent on her face. "I can taste the longing on you, smell it on your skin, hear it in the beat of your heart."

She stared at him, mesmerized by the blatant desire in his eyes. His words wrapped around her, his breath caressing her.

Swearing softly he drew back when the waitress reappeared with Kadie's dinner.

Kadie drew a deep, shuddering sigh. She could deny it until she turned blue in the face, but he was right.

She wanted him.

Kadie remained mute on the drive back to Saintcrow's house. She felt him watching her several times, but she refused to meet his gaze. He wasn't human. He was keeping her a prisoner in this accursed town. She might hate him, but there was no denying the attraction between them. But was it even real? If he could keep people from leaving here, if he could read her mind, how did she know that whatever she felt for him was genuine and not just more of his vampire tricks?

And even if what she felt was real, she wasn't going to do anything about it.

As soon as he pulled into the driveway, she jumped out of the car and hurried up the porch steps. When she tried the door, it was locked.

He took his time getting out of the car.

She was all too aware of him when he came up behind her. Every nerve and cell in her body came to attention. His breath fanned her hair, his arm brushed hers as he reached past her to unlock the door, which he did merely by touching it. A little push and it swung open on well-oiled hinges.

Lights came on when she crossed the threshold.

More vampire magic? Or merely some sort of sensor? Without a word, she walked swiftly toward the staircase. Her hand was on the banister when his voice stopped her.

"Kadie."

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

"I'm still hungry."

She frowned. What did he expect her to do about it? she wondered, then felt her blood run cold. He wasn't asking her to fix him dinner. She was dinner.

She turned away, her only thought to dash up the stairs to her room and lock the door, but her feet refused to obey. Was this how it was to be from now on? Would he feed on her every night? She told herself that wouldn't happen. The vampires weren't supposed to feed on any of them more than two or three times a week. But maybe the rules didn't apply to Saintcrow.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides and then he was standing on the stair beside her, towering over her. His hand slid around her nape, his fingers gently massaging her neck.

"What you feel for me is quite real, Kadie," he assured her, his breath warm against her cheek. "I could compel you to want me, but there's no fun in that. I could mesmerize you, make you do whatever I wished, whenever I wished. But again, there's little pleasure to be gained from bedding a robot."

"I can guarantee you'll find no pleasure in my bed if you take me against my will."

He lifted one brow. "That sounds like a challenge."

"It's not!" she said quickly.

"No?" He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, his tongue sweeping over her lips.

Kadie refused to kiss him back. She kept her body stiff, her eyes open, even though she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the need burning deep within her.

He kissed her again, his hands stroking her hair as he pushed her back against the banister, his body pressing against hers, letting her feel the hard evidence of his desire.

She fisted her hands at her sides, determined to resist.

He gazed into her eyes, his own filled with amusement. "You are a stubborn wench," he remarked. "But I can wait. I have all the time in the world."

And so saying, he released her and vanished from sight. Feeling suddenly weak in the knees, Kadie grabbed the banister, clinging to it as she climbed the stairs and hurried into her room. She locked the door, though there seemed little point to it. Nothing as flimsy as a lock would keep him out.

She climbed into bed, fully dressed except for her shoes, pulled the covers up to her chin, and closed her eyes. But sleep would not come. His scent was all around her. She licked her lips, and tasted him there. Her body throbbed with longing everywhere he had touched.

She wanted him.

Knowing what he was, how could she feel this way about him? He was a vampire, a monster.

A single tear slid down her cheek. How long would she be able to resist before she surrendered to him? How could she give in now, when she had so adamantly declared that she never would?

Kadie dreamed of him that night . . .

She was a peasant girl in a medieval village when Saintcrow came to town in the company of a dozen other English knights.

She had never seen anything like them, the stalwart men who rode into town, spurs jingling, banners flying. The village children ran to meet them, cheering and waving. There was little excitement to be had in their day-to-day lives. It was a struggle just to plant and grow enough food to survive from one year to the next. Church feasts proclaimed the time of sowing and reaping. From time to time, there were fairs, a chance to put aside all thought of work and enjoy music and acrobats. Knights came to challenge each other in the lists, merchants sold their wares, games of chance were held in the local tavern.

They were having such a fair when the knights came to town, but Kadie had eyes only for the one who rode in the front. Head high, shoulders back, he sat his charger like a king. She had never seen anything more beautiful.

When he deigned to look her way, her whole body tingled with excitement. As unobtrusively as possible, she followed him to the lists, stood in the shadows as he prepared to challenge the local champion.

With her hand pressed to her heart, she watched the knights ride toward each other, heard the harsh echo of lance against armor, gasped as their champion tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over.

Saintcrow reined his prancing charger to a stop beside the body. He dismounted in a fluid move, something that should have been impossible for a man encumbered by armor.

Tossing his helmet aside, he strode toward the fallen knight and knelt beside him.

He cried, "To the victor belong the spoils!" then buried his fangs in the defeated knight's throat.

She tried to look away, tried to run away, but she stood rooted to the spot, her mouth opening in a silent scream when he lifted his head and she saw his eyes . . . as red as the blood that stained his lips . . .

Screaming, "No!" Kadie bolted upright, her heart hammering, her body bathed in sweat. "Only a dream," she gasped. "Only a dream."

She was reaching for the light beside her bed when a dark shadow disengaged itself from the corner.

"Who's there?" She wanted to sound brave and bold; the quaver in her voice proved she was anything but.

"It's me."

Kadie's breath whooshed out of her at the sound of his voice. How was it possible to be relieved and frightened at the same time? "What are you doing in here?"

"It's my house."

"It's my room. Don't I have a right to privacy?"

"Not with me."

She switched on the light, shrank back when she saw him looming over her. "What do you want?"

"A midnight snack?"

Her hand flew to her neck in an unconscious gesture of protection. He was going to drink from her again. She wanted to protest, to rail against such a personal invasion, but how could she when she remembered all too clearly how much she had enjoyed it the last time?

Even as she tried to summon words of complaint, she couldn't deny that she was eager to be in his arms again, to experience that wondrous sensual pleasure she had known before.

And he knew it, damn him.

He was smiling when he sat beside her. One arm slid around her waist, drawing her up against him. Her cheek rested on his chest-his bare chest. Only then did she realize he was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that rode low on his hips.

He stroked her hair and she marveled that his hands-so large and strong-could be so gentle, that the touch of a man who wasn't really a man could arouse her so quickly.

Placing his knuckles under her chin, he raised her head, his gaze meeting hers. "I want you."

His voice was low, but she had no trouble hearing him. Or knowing that he wanted more than just her blood.

He smiled at her again and she felt her heart slam against her ribs. It would be so much easier to resist him if he wasn't so outrageously handsome! If she had wanted to hire someone to pose for her ideal man, Rylan Saintcrow would have been the perfect model, from his long, black hair and deep ebony eyes to his strong jaw line. She had always been drawn to tall men with broad shoulders and well-developed arms, and Saintcrow fit that description to a T.

"Kadie?"

"Are you asking my permission to . . . to . . . ravish me?"

"Would you rather I forced you?"

She bit down on her lower lip.

"You would have a clear conscience then, wouldn't you?" he asked with a knowing grin.

"I hate you," she said between clenched teeth. "I really hate you."

He laughed softly. "Sure you do." He ran one finger down her cheek. "I'll take your blood when it pleases me. I am, after all, a vampire. I need it to survive." His gaze moved over her, his eyes smoky with desire. "But I won't bed you against your will. When I take you to my bed, the decision will be yours. I'm not a rapist. Not now, not during the Crusades."

Kadie couldn't help noticing he'd said when, not if.

He lowered his head ever so slowly, giving her ample time to avoid his kiss.

Undecided, she met his gaze. Surrender or not? His breath was warm on her face when she turned her head to the side, denying him her lips but giving him access to her neck.

Moments later, she felt the brush of his fangs at her throat. And wished, fleetingly, that she had taken him to her bed.