It had taken little effort to merge his thoughts with hers. He didn’t know what had surprised him more, the fact that she was dreaming of him—or that he soon became as aroused as she. Dream or no dream, he had never felt such desire, such intense longing for any other woman.
Moving to the back of the house, he used his preternatural powers to open the bedroom window. Though the room was dark, he saw her clearly. She slept on her side, facing him, lips slightly parted, one hand beneath her cheek, the blankets bunched around her hips.
Callie.
She stirred but didn’t wake.
We need to meet.
She nodded in her sleep.
I’ll be waiting for you in Hunter Park tomorrow, just after sundown. Come to me.
Who are you?
Quill. Remember, Hunter Park. Tomorrow, after sundown.
She didn’t answer, but a faint smile of anticipation curved her lips.
* * *
Callie woke slowly, only to lie in bed staring up at the ceiling and listening to the melody of the wind chimes outside her window. Grandma Ava had told her that wind chimes drove away evil spirits.
Turning on her side, she frowned. She’d had the most peculiar dream, by turns unsettling and erotic. Strangest of all was the feeling that she needed to go to the park near her house tonight after sundown, though she couldn’t imagine why.
Shrugging it off, she slipped out of bed and wandered into the living room. It was Monday and she didn’t have anything scheduled for the day.
The morning stretched before her. Ordinarily, she would have been happy to have the time off, but not today. Today, she needed something to keep her from dwelling on the bizarre happenings of the weekend.
Shuffling into the kitchen, she fixed tea and toast for breakfast, then sat at the table, her mind replaying the dream she’d had the night before. Was he real, that strange, sexy man in the long, black coat, or just a figment of her all-too-vivid imagination? And if he did exist, who the devil was he? Maybe the Devil himself, she thought, fighting down a burst of hysterical laughter.
“Quill.” His name fell from her lips. How on earth did she know that?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. She vaguely remembered making her bed, talking to Vivian on the phone, thumbing through one of her photography magazines, eating lunch. But always in the back of her mind was the memory of her dream and the sound of a man’s voice in her head, calling her name, telling her to meet him in the park after sundown.
She was becoming obsessed, she thought. Obsessed with a shadow man.
As the sun set, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, stepped into a pair of boots, and headed for Hunter Park. She told herself she must be crazy, going to meet a stranger in the park at night.
But it didn’t keep her home.
* * *
Anticipation flowed through Quill as he watched the woman enter the park, a wary expression on her face as she strolled along the winding path that led to the fountain in the center. How long had it been since he had known this sense of excitement? A hundred years? Two? It pulsated through him, making him feel vital and alive again, as if he were a young man filled with the juices of life.
She was incredibly lovely, her figure slender and ripe, her skin glowing with good health.
She came to an abrupt halt when he stepped out of the shadows. Eyes wide and afraid, she stared up at him.
“Callie.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded. It was him. She would recognize that deep, whiskey-smooth voice anywhere. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination, after all. He was tall and broad-shouldered and exuded an air of strength and power that was frightening in its intensity. Why had she come here? Everything within her urged her to turn around and run from his presence just as fast as she could, but she seemed unable to move. She could only stand there, looking up at him, feeling small and helpless as his dark-gray eyes moved over her. Questions tumbled through her mind, but she couldn’t find the courage or her voice to ask them.
A wry smile turned up one corner of his mouth. It sent a shiver of awareness down her spine as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers when he’d kissed her. It had only been a dream, she reminded herself, but it had felt so real.
She flinched when he reached for her, yet seemed incapable of resisting when he drew her into the circle of his arms. He held her lightly, his hand idly stroking up and down her back.
“You needn’t be afraid,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”
At his words, all the tension drained out of her. She had no idea why she believed him, yet she was no longer frightened. Feeling as if she had come home after a long journey, she closed her eyes. A sigh escaped her lips when his tongue laved the skin beneath her ear. She clung to his shoulders when he bit her ever so gently.
He’s drinking my blood.
The thought should have frightened her. Repulsed her. Instead, it filled her with a sense of peace and a familiar wave of sensual pleasure.
Her eyelids fluttered open when he lifted his head.
“Meet me here again tomorrow night, my sweet Callie,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
And then, between one heartbeat and the next, he was gone.
Callie glanced around the park, but there was no sign of him. How had he disappeared so quickly? She lifted a hand to her neck. If not for the faint tingling where he had bitten her, she would have sworn she’d imagined the whole thing.
Lost in thought, she turned and headed for home.
* * *
Curled up in the easy chair beside the small, brick fireplace, Callie tried to make sense of everything that had happened earlier, but to no avail. Feeling suddenly weary, she closed her eyes, felt her body go limp as long-forgotten memories of her childhood paraded through her mind.
Things like her paternal grandmother, Martha, telling six-year-old Callie that her parents had been killed in an auto accident and that she would be going to live with her maternal grandmother, Ava.
Grandfather Henry refusing to hold her or let her visit them because she was left-handed and he believed that was a sure sign of a changeling child. He claimed her presence in their house would cause some terrible catastrophe. Callie had never seen her paternal grandparents again.
Her maternal grandmother, Ava Langley, making a mystical sign of some kind over Callie each night before she went to sleep. Ava and three of her cronies had performed strange rituals in the light of a full moon. Sometimes Callie had been included; sometimes she watched in secret from her bedroom window. She had vague memories of Ava whispering in her ear that she would understand everything when she was older.
Callie had grown up firmly believing that Grandmother Ava was a witch, even though Ava had adamantly denied it. Callie continued to believe it until she went to high school and discovered boys were far more interesting
