Half-ashamed, she cried out silently for a man’s touch, a man’s caresses that would feel like his, that would make her feel . . .
“Oh, stop!” she whispered fiercely to herself.
She turned off the shower and stepped out. Grabbing a towel and her toothbrush, she brushed with unnecessary force, hoping the mundane frothing and spitting would calm the inconvenient yearnings of her body.
She’d long ago given up dreams of domestic bliss in favor of an academic career, and as she well knew, that career was a lot more successful to date than her few humiliating attempts at relationships. With a first-class honors degree, two years of challenging but acclaimed research into vampire superstitions that had earned her a teaching job at the university this year, and the beginnings of a strong thesis that should bring her a PhD by next year, she was justifiably proud. Even Richard was proud of her, although once or twice she’d have sacrificed the intellectual admiration in his eyes for the predatory glow she glimpsed in them as they rested on a nubile female student or the glamorous art history lecturer who was currently seen around town with him.
However, in her most honest moments, she acknowledged that romantic entanglement with Richard was pure fantasy. In fact, she suspected she used her attraction to him as a shield. If she was spoken for, even if only in her own mind, then she couldn’t be flustered or seduced by other men—men who might actually get through her prickles and hurt her.
That all seemed rather pathetic now. Outside this room was a world she’d never even imagined, a world most people were entirely unaware of. And she, for once in her life, had a chance to make a real contribution. Admittedly, she’d done the world a disservice by awakening Saloman in the first place, but she could make that right.
She didn’t know why he hadn’t come for her tonight. But she knew it was just a matter of time. For some reason, he was amusing himself with her, toying with her, a little bit like Richard occasionally teased her; yet somehow she knew Saloman would deliver, and instead of romance, it would be death.
Death. And beyond that, the chaos he’d inflict on the world.
Padding across the bedroom, drying in the humid air, she dragged her worn old T-shirt from under the pillow and let it unfold. She frowned at it, then threw it onto the floor. Somehow, the act seemed symbolic.
Naked, she climbed into bed. As she reached for the lamp switch, her gaze caught Mihaela’s detector, sitting dully on the table. She winked at it, stuffed it under her pillow and switched off the light.
Although she’d only accepted the detector to get rid of the hunters, she appreciated it now for adding to her sense of security in this room, her haven, where she’d finally grown up and acknowledged her responsibilities.
She woke in darkness, her heart thudding, her body tingling as if from some sexy dream. Her hand rested on coarser fabric than her sheets, and beneath the fabric was something both hard and supple—like human flesh.
It seemed she was still dreaming. Experimentally, she twitched her fingers and the flesh, whatever it was, moved under her hand in instant response—a slow, sensual ripple, like the reaction of a man to a woman’s caress. It would be a good dream to continue . . . only . . .
Only it didn’t feel like a dream—at least, no more than the whole previous day had done. Leaving her hand where it was, in case the flesh escaped her, she drew in her breath to scream and grabbed the lamp switch with her free hand.
Its energy-saving lightbulb flickered into a dim, easy-on-the-eyes glow.
Saloman sat on her bed, Mihaela’s detector held between his long, elegant fingers.
Oh fuck, I’m dead.
She didn’t even bother to scream. She didn’t think she could in her current state. He looked right at her, not even blinking in the brightening light. Fear rose up and swallowed her.
“Good evening,” he
“Oh, stop!” she whispered fiercely to herself.
She turned off the shower and stepped out. Grabbing a towel and her toothbrush, she brushed with unnecessary force, hoping the mundane frothing and spitting would calm the inconvenient yearnings of her body.
She’d long ago given up dreams of domestic bliss in favor of an academic career, and as she well knew, that career was a lot more successful to date than her few humiliating attempts at relationships. With a first-class honors degree, two years of challenging but acclaimed research into vampire superstitions that had earned her a teaching job at the university this year, and the beginnings of a strong thesis that should bring her a PhD by next year, she was justifiably proud. Even Richard was proud of her, although once or twice she’d have sacrificed the intellectual admiration in his eyes for the predatory glow she glimpsed in them as they rested on a nubile female student or the glamorous art history lecturer who was currently seen around town with him.
However, in her most honest moments, she acknowledged that romantic entanglement with Richard was pure fantasy. In fact, she suspected she used her attraction to him as a shield. If she was spoken for, even if only in her own mind, then she couldn’t be flustered or seduced by other men—men who might actually get through her prickles and hurt her.
That all seemed rather pathetic now. Outside this room was a world she’d never even imagined, a world most people were entirely unaware of. And she, for once in her life, had a chance to make a real contribution. Admittedly, she’d done the world a disservice by awakening Saloman in the first place, but she could make that right.
She didn’t know why he hadn’t come for her tonight. But she knew it was just a matter of time. For some reason, he was amusing himself with her, toying with her, a little bit like Richard occasionally teased her; yet somehow she knew Saloman would deliver, and instead of romance, it would be death.
Death. And beyond that, the chaos he’d inflict on the world.
Padding across the bedroom, drying in the humid air, she dragged her worn old T-shirt from under the pillow and let it unfold. She frowned at it, then threw it onto the floor. Somehow, the act seemed symbolic.
Naked, she climbed into bed. As she reached for the lamp switch, her gaze caught Mihaela’s detector, sitting dully on the table. She winked at it, stuffed it under her pillow and switched off the light.
Although she’d only accepted the detector to get rid of the hunters, she appreciated it now for adding to her sense of security in this room, her haven, where she’d finally grown up and acknowledged her responsibilities.
She woke in darkness, her heart thudding, her body tingling as if from some sexy dream. Her hand rested on coarser fabric than her sheets, and beneath the fabric was something both hard and supple—like human flesh.
It seemed she was still dreaming. Experimentally, she twitched her fingers and the flesh, whatever it was, moved under her hand in instant response—a slow, sensual ripple, like the reaction of a man to a woman’s caress. It would be a good dream to continue . . . only . . .
Only it didn’t feel like a dream—at least, no more than the whole previous day had done. Leaving her hand where it was, in case the flesh escaped her, she drew in her breath to scream and grabbed the lamp switch with her free hand.
Its energy-saving lightbulb flickered into a dim, easy-on-the-eyes glow.
Saloman sat on her bed, Mihaela’s detector held between his long, elegant fingers.
Oh fuck, I’m dead.
She didn’t even bother to scream. She didn’t think she could in her current state. He looked right at her, not even blinking in the brightening light. Fear rose up and swallowed her.
“Good evening,” he
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