Blood Red. Heather Graham
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But if he thought that woman looked like Katie, so would Stephan. And he knew that Stephan was here. He had followed the creature’s trail from Abruzzi to Cannes to Essex, then here to New Orleans. Mark was convinced that it was only a matter of time before Stephan saw the woman—if he hadn’t seen her already.
Because Stephan was definitely here. He could feel it.
Mark simply hadn’t expected that he would come across so many other vampires along the way. Tonight he could have sworn he had found Stephan at last, but he’d been wrong. Was he going to think that every tall, dark man he caught a glimpse of was Stephan?
It had still been a good night’s work. He couldn’t regret killing the vampire in the cemetery. He’d saved someone’s life, at least.
And yet…
The lust for vengeance was like a fire inside him. Complicated now.
Because it was as if Katie had come back to life.
She was sleeping…dreaming, Lauren thought.
She had to be.
She was there, at the bar. And he was there, too.
He said something, teasing her, as if they had been friends forever. No, lovers forever. She could smell something that teased her senses. Something that affected not just her flesh but her mind, awakening her sensuality from within, touching her most erotic zones.
Then he was touching her. Stroking her.
She awoke suddenly, the faint sound of a click in her ears. She realized that the television was still on; now it was an infomercial diet pills.
The dream weighed heavily on her, but she knew that a noise, something that wasn’t the TV, had awakened her.
The door. She had heard the door opening.
She leapt up, looking around. The bolt was undone, and she threw the door open, thinking only afterwards that it was a stupid thing to do.
But she was glad she had done it..
Deanna was outside, standing at the end of the pool, talking aloud as if she were carrying on a conversation with someone invisible, or maybe someone who had just left.
Lauren burst out after her friend, calling her name. “Deanna!”
Deanna didn’t move.
Lauren raced around in front of her, grabbing her shoulders and staring into her eyes. They were glazed. Deanna didn’t even see her.
“Hey!” She gave her friend a shake. Nothing. “Deanna!” A harder shake.
Deanna started, her eyes widening in alarm. “Lauren?”
“Hey, you, what are you doing?”
“Sleeping,” Deanna said, her features twisted into a mask of confusion.
“Sleep walking,” Lauren corrected, confused herself. Deanna had never done this before, at least as far as she knew.
“Weird,” Deanna said. She looked around at the foliage, the shimmering water in the pool, the shadows of the night. “I’m lucky I didn’t fall in the pool and drown.”
“You don’t remember coming out here at all? Really?”
Deanna shook her head and groaned. “No more of those drinks with all the shots in them, bachelorette party or not.”
“Good thought,” Lauren agreed. She felt a chill, remembering how she had seen the man standing by the pole earlier. What if he had still been hanging around? “Let’s go in.”
“I’ll put a chair in front of the door,” Lauren said as soon as they were inside, the door safely locked behind them.
Deanna gave her a quick hug. “Thanks,” she said huskily.
Deanna went back into the bedroom, and Lauren lay down again, troubled. She was so tired. Her lids became heavy. She drifted.
And dreamed.
Mark returned to the bed and breakfast with his car and belongings. He glanced at his watch. It was four in the morning.
Once he had parked and grabbed his overnight bag, he stood in the courtyard. Unease trickled through him.
He could smell it. Sense it.
Someone had been here.
He dropped his bag and hurried to the cottage where the girls were staying. He tried the door. Locked. He prayed God it had remained so since he had left.
But he didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all.
What if Stephan had discovered the woman, the one who looked like Katie?
He was tempted to pound on the door, to make sure the girls were all right. But all signs were that they were locked in, sound asleep, safe. If they began to think of him as a danger, an insane man, he wouldn’t be able to help them.
It occurred to him that he was in a perfect position to use the women in his own quest. He was here; they were here.
The perfect bait.
No, he told himself, gritting his teeth painfully. Never bait. Never.
He stared at the door for a moment longer, then looked around the courtyard. Whoever had been here was gone. Long gone, probably. Regretfully, he walked softly away from the door, seeking his own cottage.
Luckily, it was right next door.
Lauren awoke to a hint of sunlight making its way through the draperies and the sound of chirping birds.
She frowned as she woke, despite the miraculous wonder of daylight. At least she hadn’t had any wretched dreams about fortune tellers or scary creatures in crystal balls. She hadn’t even dreamed about Deanna walking out into the courtyard, sound asleep. Now that was scary—and real.
Instead she had continued with the dream she had started before going out after Deanna, and that was very scary, as well.
And far too real.
She’d dreamed about him.
She flushed at the thought. It had been so bizarre. She’d been back in the bar, back at the point where she’d crashed into him. And it had been…
Incredibly erotic.
And insanely real. She had seen the walls, with their old posters of jazz greats. She had even smelled the slightly stale scent of alcohol that lingered around any bar, the hint of old smoke. She had seen the shadows and the dim light. And the man. They had looked at one another, and the next thing she had known, she’d been in his arms, no introduction, no small talk. Thankfully she couldn’t remember how they had shed their clothing.