was hopeless. She fretted over Carl’s actions the rest of the day, her tension growing with each passing hour. She didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s death.
Her nerves were drawn tight as a bow string when Saintcrow appeared in the living room.
As usual, he asked about her day, only to pause, his brows rushing together, his eyes narrowing, as he looked her up and down, his nostrils flaring.
He didn’t ask any questions, just looked at her as though awaiting an explanation.
Kadie glared at him. She saw no need to explain what he obviously already knew.
And still he stood there, waiting.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said.
“The man has been looking for death since he came here. He’s found it.”
Kadie placed her hand on Saintcrow’s arm. It felt like iron beneath her palm. “You can’t kill him just because he kissed me!”
“You think not?”
“I won’t be the cause of a man’s death!”
“He knew what he was doing. If I spare him, it will weaken my authority and put your life in danger.”
“But . . .”
“The subject is closed,” he said harshly. Then, more quietly, “I’ll make it quick.”
Before she could beg Saintcrow to reconsider, he was gone.
Unable to sit still, she paced the living room floor, her mind conjuring one gruesome image after another, all of them ending with Carl Freeman dead and drained of blood.
Kadie went to the window and stared out into the darkness. Where was Saintcrow? What was he doing? She sat on the sofa, her fingers drumming on the cushion beside her, then got up and went to the window again. She glanced at her watch, surprised to find that what had seemed like hours had been only a few minutes.
She was ready to scream when Saintcrow reappeared.
Kadie stared at him, mute, but when he said nothing, she had to ask, “Did you . . . is he . . . ?”
“No.” He swore a pithy oath, then grabbed her arm and yanked her up close against him. “You owe me one, Kadie Andrews.”
She stared up at him. “What . . . what do you want?”
Desire blazed in his eyes. “I think you know.” One hand fisted in her hair. “That’s my price. Is his life worth it?”
“You said you wouldn’t force me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! This is blackmail of the worst kind!”
“Yes, or no?”
“How do I know you didn’t kill him?”
“Because I’m telling you that I didn’t. Do you believe me?”
She met his probing gaze without blinking or flinching and she knew, somehow she knew, he was telling her the truth. She blew out a sigh. Giving him what he wanted—what she wanted, if she was honest with herself—seemed a small price to pay for a man’s life.
“Very well, Saintcrow. The answer is yes. I’ll sleep with you. As long as it isn’t in a coffin.”
His laughter startled her. “You win, Kadie. It’s enough that you believe me. For now.”
“You don’t want me?”
“Always, but I want it to be your idea, not mine.”
“Then what was this all about?”
The heat faded from his eyes. “I’m not sure.”
Stunned, and unaccountably disappointed, she dropped down on the sofa. “Where’s Carl now?”
Saintcrow leaned against the hearth, his arms folded over his chest. “I let him go. As far as anyone else knows, he’s dead and buried.”
“You let him go?”
“It was either that or kill him. I trust you won’t tell anyone he’s still alive.”
“No, of course not. Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“I saw a graveyard. Are there people buried there? I mean, is it a real cemetery?”
“It’s real, and yes, there are people buried there. People who have died here,” he added, anticipating her next question. “Most from natural causes.”
“Most?”
“There have been casualties from time to time.”
She didn’t have to ask what kind of casualties. The town was filled with vampires, after all. “Have you ever seen any ghosts out there?”
“Don’t tell me you saw one?”
“No, but . . .” She felt
Her nerves were drawn tight as a bow string when Saintcrow appeared in the living room.
As usual, he asked about her day, only to pause, his brows rushing together, his eyes narrowing, as he looked her up and down, his nostrils flaring.
He didn’t ask any questions, just looked at her as though awaiting an explanation.
Kadie glared at him. She saw no need to explain what he obviously already knew.
And still he stood there, waiting.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said.
“The man has been looking for death since he came here. He’s found it.”
Kadie placed her hand on Saintcrow’s arm. It felt like iron beneath her palm. “You can’t kill him just because he kissed me!”
“You think not?”
“I won’t be the cause of a man’s death!”
“He knew what he was doing. If I spare him, it will weaken my authority and put your life in danger.”
“But . . .”
“The subject is closed,” he said harshly. Then, more quietly, “I’ll make it quick.”
Before she could beg Saintcrow to reconsider, he was gone.
Unable to sit still, she paced the living room floor, her mind conjuring one gruesome image after another, all of them ending with Carl Freeman dead and drained of blood.
Kadie went to the window and stared out into the darkness. Where was Saintcrow? What was he doing? She sat on the sofa, her fingers drumming on the cushion beside her, then got up and went to the window again. She glanced at her watch, surprised to find that what had seemed like hours had been only a few minutes.
She was ready to scream when Saintcrow reappeared.
Kadie stared at him, mute, but when he said nothing, she had to ask, “Did you . . . is he . . . ?”
“No.” He swore a pithy oath, then grabbed her arm and yanked her up close against him. “You owe me one, Kadie Andrews.”
She stared up at him. “What . . . what do you want?”
Desire blazed in his eyes. “I think you know.” One hand fisted in her hair. “That’s my price. Is his life worth it?”
“You said you wouldn’t force me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! This is blackmail of the worst kind!”
“Yes, or no?”
“How do I know you didn’t kill him?”
“Because I’m telling you that I didn’t. Do you believe me?”
She met his probing gaze without blinking or flinching and she knew, somehow she knew, he was telling her the truth. She blew out a sigh. Giving him what he wanted—what she wanted, if she was honest with herself—seemed a small price to pay for a man’s life.
“Very well, Saintcrow. The answer is yes. I’ll sleep with you. As long as it isn’t in a coffin.”
His laughter startled her. “You win, Kadie. It’s enough that you believe me. For now.”
“You don’t want me?”
“Always, but I want it to be your idea, not mine.”
“Then what was this all about?”
The heat faded from his eyes. “I’m not sure.”
Stunned, and unaccountably disappointed, she dropped down on the sofa. “Where’s Carl now?”
Saintcrow leaned against the hearth, his arms folded over his chest. “I let him go. As far as anyone else knows, he’s dead and buried.”
“You let him go?”
“It was either that or kill him. I trust you won’t tell anyone he’s still alive.”
“No, of course not. Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“I saw a graveyard. Are there people buried there? I mean, is it a real cemetery?”
“It’s real, and yes, there are people buried there. People who have died here,” he added, anticipating her next question. “Most from natural causes.”
“Most?”
“There have been casualties from time to time.”
She didn’t have to ask what kind of casualties. The town was filled with vampires, after all. “Have you ever seen any ghosts out there?”
“Don’t tell me you saw one?”
“No, but . . .” She felt
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