Born in Twilight: Twilight Vows by MAGGIE SHAYNE

closer. To do to her what she was doing to him. To take her, in every way he knew how, until, until…
    She lifted her head, blinking and looking dazed. He hadn’t had to tell her to stop. She’d done it on her own. And judging from the look in her eyes, he thought she’d experienced the same mind-numbing desire as he had.
    As he…still did?
    He swallowed hard, and got to his feet, lowered her to the floor, still shaking with unbelievable need. Her face was no longer chalk white, but was slowly becoming infused with healthy color. A glow. And her eyes were shining brighter with every second he spent looking into them. Her dulled hair took on a new gleam, and her hollowed cheeks began to plump right before his eyes.
    God, she was beautiful.
    He blinked the thought away. No time for this. Not now.
    â€œI…feel stronger,” she whispered, but the shock of the desire that had raged between them still showed in her violet eyes. “Thank you.” She was bewildered. She had no clue what had transpired between them, was completely shocked over the feelings that had swamped her just now.
    Looking back at her, he nodded and reached into his pocket for the second lab coat he’d brought along. He held it open for her, and she turned, swayed, nearly fell, but managed to catch her balance and thrust her arms into its sleeves. It wasn’t starvation weakening her now. It was desire. And it disgusted her. Jameson watched her struggle with the buttons for just a moment, then ran out of patience and bent to do them up himself, effectively covering the thin white robe that was all she’d been wearing.
    He then produced a surgical mask and a disposable paper head covering, a puffy thing with elastic. Quickly and efficiently, he wound her long, tangled hair into a bunch, snapped the cap over it and tucked the loose tendrils up underneath.
    â€œThat’s going to have to do,” he said, standing back and eyeing her, noting how those violet eyes stood out above the white mask she wore. “Come.” He took her hand once more, pulled her out of the room, into the hall, and started down it. He looked down at her, saw her fear in her eyes. She was afraid of him. He’d sensed that from the start. And no wonder. She must expect some kind of retribution from the “monster” she’d once tried to murder. But right now, she was more afraid of the others who roamed this place. Her eyes were wide with it, and she was trembling.
    He squeezed her hand for some reason he could not explain. Perhaps to calm her fears. It was cold, shaking. She didn’t pull it away. “I don’t know your name,” he said softly. “Ironic, isn’t it? We have a child together, and don’t even know the simplest things about each other.”
    â€œI’m Angelica,” she whispered.
    Angelica. Angel, he thought. A dark, frightened, lonely angel. Stupid thought. She was no angel.
    â€œI’m Jameson.”
    They reached the elevator that led to the furnace. No one should be there at this hour of the night. DPI didn’t dare risk one of their victims waking—bolstered by the night—as they shoved him into the flames, and wreaking havoc on the attendants. They stepped inside, and the doors slid closed. “What happened to you?” he asked her as the car started upward. “How did you end up alone in that condemned building, half-starved?”
    She lowered her head, shook it slowly. “I was mad. Out of my mind, that night.”
    The car jerked to a stop. Angelica was jostled against him, and he closed his arms around her without forethought.
    â€œI’m sorry for what I did to you,” she whispered. “It’s my fault you’re…”
    â€œWhat, Angelica? A monster? That’s what you think I am, isn’t it?”
    She looked up at him as the doors slid open, eyes widening. Yes, she must know he’d read her mind