Dancers in the Dark by Charlaine Harris

had made a massive error.
    â€œAnd for the rest of my life I would have had to put up with Carver’s little ways, like beating on me, because he’d raped me,” Rue said coldly.
    â€œAll right, in my time, we would have been wrong,” he conceded. “But we would have been on your side.”
    â€œI have you on my side,” she said. “I have you on my side now. If this has meant anything to you.”
    â€œI don’t get this close to anyone unless it means something to me.”
    â€œThat come from being an aristocrat? In your time, were you like Carver?” There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before.
    â€œThe night we first make love, you can compare me to the man who raped you?”
    She hadn’t thought before she spoke. “After years of weighing every word I said to another person, all of a sudden I’ve gotten to be the worst—I’m so sorry, Sean. Please forgive me for the offense.”
    There was a long silence in the dark room. He didn’t speak. Her heart sank. She’d ruined it. Her bitterness and mistrust had twisted her more than she knew. But she’d come by it naturally, and she didn’t see how she could have existed otherwise.
    After another unnerving two minutes of silence, Rue began to fumble around for her clothes. She was determined not to cry.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Sean asked.
    â€œI’m going home. I’ve screwed up everything. You won’t talk to me, and I’m going home.”
    â€œYou offended me,” he said, and his voice wasn’t level or calm at all. He was saying, You hurt me. But Rue wasn’t absorbing that. Before Sean could scramble into his own clothes, she was gone, wearing her flannel shirt tossed over her dance outfit. She’d thrust her feet into her boots without lacing them. She was out the door of the studio, then out the door to the building, before Sean could catch her. He cursed out loud. He had to check the studio and lock everything up; that was the duty of the last person out, and it was something he couldn’t shirk. He could always catch up with Rue, he was sure; after all, he was a vampire, and she was human.
    Carver was waiting for her in the third alley to the north.
    Rue was walking very swiftly. She was trying not to cry; and not having much luck. She wanted to reach the next corner in time for the bus, which would be the last one running on a Sunday night. As she passed the alley entrance, Carver burst out with such astonishing suddenness that he was holding her arm before she could react.
    â€œHello, Layla,” he said, smiling.
    The nightmares she’d had for four years had come to life.
    Carver had always been handsome, but his present look was far from his preppy norm. He’d spiked his dark hair and he was wearing ragged jeans and a leather jacket. He’d disguised himself.
    â€œI have a score to settle with you,” he said, still smiling.
    Rue hadn’t been able to make a sound when he’d grabbed her arm, but now she began to scream.
    â€œShut up!” he yelled, and backhanded her across the mouth.
    But Rue had no intention of shutting up. “Help!” she screamed. “Help!” She groped in her bag for her pepper spray with her free left hand, but this one night she hadn’t been prepared, mentally or physically, and she couldn’t find the cylinder she usually carried ready to use.
    Pinning her with his grip on her right arm, Carver began pummeling Rue with his fist to make her shut up. She tried to dodge the blows, tried to find the spray, tried to pray that help would come. Where was the pepper spray? Abandoning her futile one-handed rummaging through her big bag, Rue yanked it off her shoulder, since it was only an impediment. Then she fought back. She wasn’t nearly as big as Carver, so she went for his genitals. She wanted to grip and squeeze the whole package, but he pulled