“Savanah, I’m not leaving until you open the door.”

His stubbornness made her mad, and then she smiled. “It’ll be daylight soon,” she said smugly, “and you’ll have to leave.”

She jumped as something—his fist, no doubt—slammed against the door frame. “Nothing to be afraid of, huh?”

“What can I say to convince you that I’m not going to hurt you?”

“I can’t think of a thing.”

“Fine, have it your way, but I’m not leaving here until the sun comes up. Your life’s in danger, Savanah, but not from me. Someone is killing hunters. They killed your father.” Having checked the morgue, he knew that for a fact. “They might have killed your mother, as well. What makes you think you won’t be next?”

“I don’t believe you. If someone was hunting the hunters, it would be in one of the books.”

“Books?” Rane said sharply. “You mean there’s more than one?”

“Yes,” she replied absently. She hadn’t finished reading the black book yet. Did it hold the key to the mystery of who was killing the hunters?

Pivoting on her heel, she hurried into the living room, plucked the black book off the end table and turned to the last few pages. And there, in her father’s bold handwriting, she found a list of deceased Vampire hunters. There was a period of fifteen years or so after the war ended where there were no violent deaths recorded. A few hunters had passed away from natural causes, one had been killed in a car accident, one had drowned. And then, starting about three years ago, there were reports of hunters being killed. At first, there had been only a couple deaths a year, not enough to cause alarm or suspicion. Then three or four. In the last year, eight hunters had been killed. Five were confirmed dead from Vampire attacks, three had died under suspicious circumstances, although there was no hard evidence linking their deaths to the Vampire community.

Was Rane right? Was she next on the list? Had he come to help her? Or was he the executioner? And how was she to know?

Stunned by what she had read, Savanah dropped the book on the sofa, then glanced at the front door, wondering again if Rane was to be her savior or her executioner. She couldn’t avoid him forever unless she locked herself in the house every evening before the sun went down. Did she want to live as a prisoner in her own home for the rest of her life?

Did she want to die tonight? Or worse, become what he was?

She stood there a moment, wondering what she should do, and then she heard Rane’s voice in her mind. Unable to resist his command, compelled by an irresistible power she didn’t understand, she picked up both of the books, opened the front door, and crossed the threshold.

Chapter Fifteen

Rane experienced a sharp twinge of guilt as he compelled Savanah to do his bidding, but he quickly swept it aside. If she hadn’t been so stubborn, he wouldn’t have had to resort to using his preternatural powers. But it was the only way he could think of to get her out of the house, to prove that he meant her no harm. She could hate him if she wished. He could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was the thought of her being prey for one of his kind, or worse, being turned by anyone but himself.

Taking her into his arms, he willed the two of them to his rented bungalow. Inside, he turned on the lights; he was at home in the dark, but he didn’t want to frighten her if he could help it. A flicker of Supernatural power secured the door and the windows, assuring him that she couldn’t leave until he was ready for her to do so. When that was done, he took both of the books from her hands and quickly thumbed through first one and then the other. No wonder her father had been murdered. Rane could think of any number of Vampires who would kill to keep those books out of human hands.

Muttering an oath, he slid the books under the sofa, and then he freed Savanah’s mind from his compulsion and waited for the explosion.

It wasn’t long in coming.

Savanah turned on him with a vengeance. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, her hands fisted on her hips. “Why did you bring me here?” She glanced around. “Where are my books?”

For all her bravado, he heard the underlying edge of fear in her voice. Not that he could blame her. Here, in his lair, she was alone and defenseless. He waited a moment before answering, letting that fact sink in.

“Damn you!” she exclaimed. “Answer me!”

“I brought you here to prove that you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Fine, I’m going home.” She held out her hand. “I want my mother’s books.”

“All in good time.”

Shoulders back, Savanah marched to the front door and turned the handle. When nothing happened, she grabbed hold of the knob and gave it a hard yank, and then she twisted it back and forth.

When the door refused to open, she glared at him over her shoulder. “Let me out of here!”

“Not until you calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Yeah,” he muttered dryly. “I can see that.”

Arms crossed over her breasts, she turned to face him, her expression mutinous, her eyes blazing with fury. “All right, convince me and let me go. My father’s funeral is in the morning.”

Rane swore softly. “Savanah, listen to me. I’m a Vampire. I admit it, but I had nothing to do with the deaths of your parents, but I know who killed your father….”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She began to pace the floor. “Where is he? How do I find him? We need to call the police….”

“Slow down, darlin’. I guess I said that wrong. I don’t know who it is, but I caught her scent. I’ll know it if I find it again….”

“Her scent? You mean a woman killed my dad?”

“I think so.”

“But why?” Savanah frowned. The possibility that the killer was a woman put a whole new spin on things. Had her father been having an affair she didn’t know about? Had the two of them had a quarrel that turned violent? She dismissed the thought out of hand. She was grabbing at straws, hoping to explain away what she knew was the truth. In her heart, she knew a Vampire had killed her father, just as Rane had said. “Why?” It was a question she couldn’t seem to stop asking.

“I don’t know,” Rane said, “but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

She stared up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “I don’t understand any of this,” she said, sniffling. “Why would anyone want to kill him? He was old and crippled and…”

“Shh.” Rane moved toward her, wondering if she would accept comfort from him.

She didn’t move when he wrapped his arms around her. Ramrod stiff, she stood in his embrace while tears ran down her cheeks and then, with a sob, she collapsed against him, warm and soft and vulnerable.

He held her a moment, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Taking a seat, he cradled her to his chest.

“I should be trying to kill you,” she said, sniffling.

“I give you leave to try later.”

She laughed through her tears. He took that for a good sign.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Savanah, I swear it.”

“I don’t think I care.”

He chuckled softly. “Hey, talk like that’s going to give Vampire hunters a bad name.”

“I don’t care,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just want my dad back.”

“I know.” He stroked her hair, gentling her to his touch. She was vulnerable now, ripe for the taking, but as he held her, he came to the grim realization that he had been caught in his own trap, and that in the midst of seducing her, he had lost his own heart instead. Anyone who tried to harm Savanah would have to go through him first.

Rane swore softly. Since the night of his first kill, he had punished himself for what he was, for the lives he had taken. He had adhered to the mores of traditional Vampires. For years, he had spent the daylight hours resting inside a coffin, refusing to stir until sundown, even though there was no need. Like his brother, he could function during the day, undoubtedly a benefit of having a mortal woman for a mother, and a father who had been turned by the world’s oldest Vampire. But even though he could be awake and active, he didn’t have the power to walk in the sun’s light. Years ago, Mara had offered to share her blood with him. Had he taken it, power straight from the source, so to speak, he would now be able to withstand the sun’s light, at least for short periods of time, but he had refused her.

“Why?” she had asked. “Why would you deny yourself so great a gift?”

“Because,” he had replied succinctly. “I don’t deserve it.”

“What foolishness is that?”

“I’m a Vampire, a creature of the night. I belong in the darkness, and that’s where I’ll stay.”

Mara hadn’t tried to change his mind. He was sorry now that she hadn’t persuaded him, and even sorrier that she was currently somewhere in Egypt, no doubt resting in the earth of her homeland, leaving him no way to get in touch with her. Damn.

With a last sniff, Savanah sat up, putting some space between herself and Rane. Her gaze rested on the shriveled skin on the side of his face and neck. She had done that to him in a moment of anger and frustration.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked, surprised that his cheek wasn’t still raw and red.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, really I am. Will it leave a scar?” It would be a shame to mar that handsome profile.

“No.” He lifted a hand to his cheek. “I’m a fast healer. By tomorrow night, the worst of the pain will have subsided. In a few days, the burns will be gone.”

Remarkable, she thought. If her skin had been burned like that, it would have taken weeks to heal. “How long have you been a Vampire?”

“Almost ninety years.”

He didn’t look that old, of course, but then Vampires didn’t age once they were turned.