Shadow Image Part 15

Was he mad? "Ric..."

He ignored her and drew the blade across his forearm, slowly enough that she could see the metal slicing deep into his flesh. He held the towel under his arm, and it reddened quickly with blood. A brief wince altered his features, but the muscles she saw working in his face and neck afterward indicated that he controlled a pain greater than he had shown.

"I'm immune to human ailments, Shelby, but I'm not a machine. I do feel physical pain. But watch my arm."

She stared, unable to tear her gaze away even if she had wanted to. The blood stopped flowing, and he wiped the remaining trail of red from his arm with a corner of the towel. The severed flesh knitted together before her eyes, forming a rosy seam across his pale skin. She gaped, transfixed, and in another few minutes all redness was gone.

"Come closer and look at it."

She flicked her gaze to his face. He looked so real. Yet how could any of this be real?

He closed the distance between them himself, appearing right beside her in the blink of an eye. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Look at it. Touch it." He held his arm before her, flexing it.

She saw the hard muscles, the tendons, and the veins, but no cut, no scar, no discoloration. There was nothing at all to indicate he had been wounded in the least-nothing except a blood-soaked hand towel.

"Well? Are you convinced or shall I have you shoot me with your service weapon?"

She studied his features again, only inches away this time, and the glossy hair, pale skin, and strange eyes took on a new importance. No longer was he just strikingly handsome. He was scary. Vampire or no, something was definitely not normal, and with dawning certainty came a new dread. "What are you going to do to me?"

Something twitched in his face. "You doubt me after what I did for you just now?"

She refused to feel guilt for either her skepticism or her suspicions. "I doubt everything right now. How do I know you didn't save my life for some purpose of your own?" As the words tumbled out of her mouth her options, or rather lack thereof, raced through her mind. Even if she considered him a foe, could she realistically do anything about it? Arresting him was out of the question.

What proof did she have of any crime? People were already questioning her. No one would believe this. And if she did try to oppose him, she had no doubt he had the ability to stop her in any number of ways.

The lines in his face hardened, as if he had read her thoughts. "You'll just have to trust me, as I'll have to trust you."

"I don't see that I have much choice."

"Shelby, I don't want to coerce you into anything."

"But you will if you have to."

He drew a deep breath. "Believe it or not, I've put myself in a very precarious position by what I've done tonight. The others of my kind, should they learn of it, would condemn me."

"Others? How many others like you are there around here?"

He shook his head. "I can't talk about that."

"So what happens now? You didn't answer my question. What are you going to do with me? If I wanted to go home right now, would you let me?"

"You're in danger. What happened to you tonight was no random act. I won't stop you if you want to leave, but I don't advise it."

Advice from a vampire. Part of her wanted to flee from all this madness and forget that any of it had ever happened. But a larger part of her-the part that had been a cop for nearly a decade-wanted more answers. She closed her eyes. Was that all she wanted? Just the night before she had been consumed with desire for this man. Were any of those feelings still present? She cracked her eyelids and peered at him. She had no idea how she felt. Perhaps if she knew he truly wished her no harm ... but how could she trust him? He had asked for her trust, but it would take more than mere asking.

"Why am I in danger? Does it have something to do with my relationship with you?"

His eyebrows rose. "That may be part of it. Someone wants to strike at me by hurting you."

"But you think there's more to it than that."

"I've already told you a lot of things I shouldn't have. But some things must remain with me, at least for now."

So he didn't trust her anymore than she trusted him. Suddenly she was very tired. "If you're not going to talk to me, take me home."

He rose with a lightness and grace that belied a six-foot-plus frame. Now she understood why he had never displayed any fatigue or clumsiness in his movements. He held out a hand to her, but all she did was stare at it. There were smudges of dried blood still on his arm. She ignored his offer and stood up on her own, but she was immediately sorry. A wave of dizziness rocked her, and she felt herself falling back to the sofa. He caught her before she could try to stop him, and in that moment she felt at home in his embrace, not only safe, but as if she belonged. But with the restoration of her strength and balance came the reality of what held her. She shuddered.

"I'm all right. Let go of me."

He released her, but stayed close to her as he escorted her out to his vehicle. The drive back to her house was a quiet one as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened. Ric pulled the SUV into her driveway and cut the engine, but made no move to exit. And in spite of her feelings, she couldn't quite bring herself to jump out and run for the house.

"Ric, how much danger am I really in? Tell me the truth." She was careful to stare out the windshield and not at his eyes. All she wanted right now was information, not to be drawn into whatever game he was playing.

"I can't be sure. Maybe I eliminated the threat. Maybe all I did was tweak the Devil's nose. But you'd be a lot better off with me nearby."

She wasn't so sure about that. "Not a good idea. I need to do some serious thinking. It's not every day that your lover admits he's a bloodsucking monster."

"What you need is sleep and rest. I don't want you to go in to work tomorrow."

"I have to." The three words stiffened her resolve. "Good Night, Ric." She opened the door, slid off the leather seat, and strode to her front door. He was there waiting for her.

"Dammit, Ric..." Her hard-won determination took flight, leaving quivers of frustration in its wake. She suddenly realized that he was only allowing her the illusion of being in control. She had no doubt he could force her to do anything he wanted. But what did he want? "Why did you save my life?"

He stood very close to her, bracing one arm against her door just inches from her head. "I told you-I'm not a machine, and I'm not some kind of zombie animated from the dead. I do feel, but my emotions aren't the same as yours. I'm a reversal of everything that humanity deems good and right. I want you to hear that from me just in case you have any illusions about what I am. But the feelings I do have are very strong, and my desires are even stronger. How I felt last night is something I don't think I could explain to you, but know that it meant just as much to me in my own way as it meant to you in yours."

At his mention of strong desires and his reference to last night, her body responded with a mind of its own, wanting nothing more than to experience again the ecstasy they had shared. A now-familiar ache swiftly knotted and urged her to press her body against his. She yearned to feel his mouth on hers, craved the release only he could bring to the tightness she felt building with every second she stood there. But she resisted. Her self-control, as fragile as it was, was more important. She stared past his shoulder at a light that shone down the road. "Well, maybe someday you can explain to me exactly what you feel, but in the meantime, I need some time to myself."

"Shelby." He whispered her name slowly, as though it were a part of her body to be caressed.

She shifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

"You've been through a lot, and you're very tired. You should sleep now." His voice, low and resonant, became a tangible part of him, filling her senses, raising goose b.u.mps on her skin, and sinking into her mind.

The last thing she remembered seeing was his eyes, glowing like those of some night predator. And her final thought was that the illusion that this night was some kind of dream was gone. It was all real. And the reality was a thousand times more terrifying than the nightmare.

Chapter Eleven.

Shelby turned her head and squinted at her bedside clock, groaning when she realized it was ten o'clock in the morning.

Late for work was her first thought, but as she rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom the events of last night came trickling back to her. The attack in the woods. She peered at the bathroom mirror and saw the reflection of the bandage on her neck.

By a vampire. She wet a washcloth and scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. Ric. Ric was one of them. Was he here? She was wearing a cotton nightshirt, but she didn't remember getting undressed or going to bed. She made her way to the kitchen. The message light on her answering machine was blinking furiously.

She ignored it and looked around. "Ric?"

The only response was a burst of chatter from Flash. She took a peek out the gla.s.s doors leading to the backyard patio. The sun was shining, and flags of shade created by the tall ba.s.swood branches waved over the lawn. She stepped into the living room and stared at the fireplace, trying not to remember the time she and Ric had spent in front of the candles just two nights ago.

Next she opened the front door and looked out. No SUV sat in the driveway. Had he spent the night with her, watching over her?

She had no way to know. Returning to Flash's cage, she bent her head to stare at the tiny beady eye directed her way.

"Hi, baby."

Flash c.o.c.ked his head. "h.e.l.lo, baby."

"You see anything of a tall, rotten vampire around here last night?"

The little white head bobbed up and down. "Pretty boy, pretty boy."

"Is that a ten-four, Flash?"

"Ten-four, ten-four."

She sighed and hit the play b.u.t.ton on the answering machine. There was a message from the neighbor who had first alerted her to the lights in the woods, a call from Seline wondering if the schedule had been changed, and one from Marc asking when she would be in. There were no messages from Ric.

She fingered the small white square on her neck. If not for the bandage, she could have believed that all of it had truly been some kind of wild dream. As it was, she started her damage control. She called Seline first and told the girl that she had felt sick last night and ended up oversleeping. She promised she'd be in after lunch. Next she called her neighbor and rea.s.sured the woman that the lights had been nothing but some teenagers playing in the woods. She hung up the phone, started a pot of coffee, and cleaned out Flash's cage. But the more she strove for normality, the more she realized how altered her life had become. She didn't know what to make of Ric's declarations and demonstrations. He was a doctor and had access to many different kinds of drugs. Perhaps she had been under the influence of something.

Whatever had really happened, Ric had betrayed her. She had been disappointed by men before, but never like this. She had given him her body, but it had been so much more than that. She had leaned on him for support, and he had not only let her topple, he had pulled the rug out from underneath her.

Ric woke after spending the afternoon sleeping. He ascended to the tower room and threw open the window. Perhaps it was the nearly three hundred and sixty degree view he had of his property, or perhaps it was the height that gave him a feeling of power, but the tiny room, for all its confinement, was quickly becoming his favorite spot to reflect.

He had been up all night and all morning in an attempt to safeguard Shelby from further harm. While she slept he had alternated between patrolling the outside grounds of her house and watching over her in her bedroom. He hadn't pondered all his new problems as much as he had simply wondered how he could have come to care so quickly for a human.

Now, though, as the events of last night moved farther away, they came into sharper focus, and the enormity of what he had done cut into him. He had killed a vampire. He had given a mortal information that could potentially be harmful to him and his kind. He had violated the trust of his position. It was a rocky path he had chosen last night, and if he stayed on it, it would get no smoother.

How could he possibly guard her twenty-four hours a day? He couldn't. He needed sleep, and he had a job and responsibilities.

And Shelby wasn't likely to make things easy for him.

Ric stood just outside of a shaft of late afternoon sun and felt the gentle breeze warm his skin. Guarding her implied there was a threat still out there, but he had no idea what form the threat would take. Had Branduff acted alone? If not, who else was part of the conspiracy to make Shelby disappear? Disaster control, even if he wanted to do it, would be hard. He could compel Shelby to forget the past eighteen hours, but that wouldn't remove the threat against her. And if what he had told her about someone wanting to strike out at him by hurting her was true, he would still be in danger.

Disaster. Ever since he moved to Shadow Bay and met Shelby Cort, disaster had filled his existence.

His cell phone rang. He reached for it, expecting it to be Shelby.

"De Chaux."

It was Tux. "Ric, I heard from some of the council members last night. This whole thing with Eva has them spooked. Have you heard any news of the investigation?" The words were stated matter-of-factly, as if the nasty confrontation between Ric and Tux had never happened.

Ric was careful to keep his words just as neutral. "No. I haven't talked to the sheriff since yesterday. Eva's with Ormie, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Listen, Ric, the group wants a meeting. They're all edgy. They need rea.s.suring."

"All right. Tomorrow night at my house. Set it up."

"Okay." There was a pause.

"Did you want anything else, Tux?"

"No. I'll see you tomorrow."

Though there was nothing overt in Tux's words or voice, there was something about the conversation that worried Ric. If Tux was indeed a.s.sociated with Branduff, he was perfectly capable of making mischief during the day. Ric called Shelby's home number and got her answering machine.

"Shelby, pick up." He paused and heard nothing but silence. "Shelby, pick up the phone and let me know you're all right." More silence. With a French oath he tapped in another phone number, hoping she had ignored his advice and gone in to work.

"Cristallia County Sheriff's Department. How can I help you?"

"This is Dr. De Chaux. Is Sheriff Cort in?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor. You just missed her. She's left for the day."

"How long ago?"

"Just a minute ago."

"Thanks."

He was out of the tower and on his bike before another minute pa.s.sed. He pulled into Shelby's driveway just before she did.

Shelby exited her vehicle slowly, staring at him. "What are you doing here? I was hoping you were nothing more than a bad dream."

Glad as he was to see her in one piece, her unappreciative att.i.tude grated on him. He had saved her life, and even if she couldn't swallow anything else that had happened last night, she should at least be grateful for that. "I'm flattered you don't consider me a full-blown nightmare."

She didn't stop at his bike but continued marching toward her door. "Don't feel flattered. That's exactly what you are."

He followed her to the door. "We need to talk."

She turned to face him. She was wearing sungla.s.ses, but if the flinty lines around her mouth were any indication, her blue-green eyes would be throwing sparks. "Are you going to answer my questions and be truthful with me?"

"You must know there are some things I can't tell you, and if I swore to be one hundred percent truthful, that itself would be a lie."

"Then there's no point in talking, and we're certainly not doing anything else."

He took her by the arm. She tried to shake him off, but he held her firmly. "Listen, Shelby, you are still very much in danger, and ignoring the threat isn't going to make it go away. Talk to me. I can't make promises, but I can help you."

She stopped struggling against his hold, but the tension in her arm served as silent opposition to his plea. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not if you want to live."

"Well, unless you plan on knocking down my door and dragging me inside, you can let go of me."