healed beneath his touch.
Releasing her, he shifted uncomfortably.
“Here.”
A bag of blood appeared a few inches in front of his face. Roland’s gaze followed the arm offering it to its owner.
Marcus now stood behind the sofa. “I brought it to you in case you were simply too tired or lazy to get it yourself.”
Roland brushed it aside impatiently. “Get that out of here.”
“Stop being stubborn,” Marcus demanded. “You need it and she’s unconscious.”
“But she could wake at any moment.”
Actually, she already had.
Chapter 6
Sarah had been flirting with consciousness ever since Roland had settled her on what felt like a very comfortable sofa.
Roland was a vampire. Marcus was, too. And she was now alone with them and terrified of what they meant to do to her. She needed to escape but had no hope of outrunning them. So she had enacted the only plan she could think of with her head pounding and sharp pains darting through her chest every time she drew in a breath: feign sleep, eavesdrop, gather information, then sneak away at the first opportunity.
The hardest part so far had been keeping her heartbeat steady and slow despite her fear and not flinching when Roland had touched her sore ribs.
Well, no. The absolute hardest part had been not freaking out when Marcus had told Roland to feed, assuming she would be the main course.
The more she listened, though, the more uncertainty crowded her. Roland didn’t sound like the soulless predator she had seen suck the blood of that goth kid in her front yard. He sounded like the nice guy she had spent the day with. The one who had let her sleep on him without copping a feel, disinclined to complain about her weight resting on his many wounds.
He sounded protective of her.
“And Seth thinks
I’m
unreasonable,” Marcus muttered. “She knows what we are.”
“And she’s already seen me feed once, Marcus. I don’t want her to see me do it again. She’ll be scared enough when she wakes.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Clearly you didn’t see her face when she dove for the car and screeched away.”
Inwardly, she winced. Jeeze, that sounded cowardly.
“I was preoccupied, if you’ll recall,” Marcus responded dryly. “Besides, she was only afraid because she thought you were a vampire like the others. Once you explain that you’re not, that you’re an immortal, she’ll come around.”
He wasn’t a vampire? What was an immortal?
“The way Mary did?” Roland asked dryly.
Who was Mary?
Marcus snorted. “Mary was a twit, infected by the superstitions of her time and easily influenced by others.”
“She was not a twit. She was well-educated.”
“She was a bluestocking, a student of the classics with her head in the clouds. Despite her love of books, she knew little more of the world than her female peers and, as I said, was easily influenced by others. Perhaps if she had been capable of thinking for herself, she wouldn’t have betrayed you the way she did.”
Roland grunted.
“None of that matters, anyway, because Mary and Sarah are two different people. Mary would never have hit a man in the head with a shovel to save you. Sarah did.”
Well, that made her feel better.
“Plus, I happened to see a number of paranormal romance novels on her bookshelves when we were at her place, so she may not freak out at all.”
“What do you know about romance novels?” Roland asked skeptically.
“Bethany liked them. I recognized several she had read.”
“Well, liking the fiction doesn’t mean Sarah will like the reality.”
The pain in her head increased minutely when Roland carefully prodded the left side of her forehead, then brushed her hair back.
“I don’t really care whether she likes it or not as long as she accepts it and doesn’t rat us out.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Really? You, the king of paranoia, aren’t worried she’ll blab our secret?”
“If she did, who would believe her? She’d be locked
Releasing her, he shifted uncomfortably.
“Here.”
A bag of blood appeared a few inches in front of his face. Roland’s gaze followed the arm offering it to its owner.
Marcus now stood behind the sofa. “I brought it to you in case you were simply too tired or lazy to get it yourself.”
Roland brushed it aside impatiently. “Get that out of here.”
“Stop being stubborn,” Marcus demanded. “You need it and she’s unconscious.”
“But she could wake at any moment.”
Actually, she already had.
Chapter 6
Sarah had been flirting with consciousness ever since Roland had settled her on what felt like a very comfortable sofa.
Roland was a vampire. Marcus was, too. And she was now alone with them and terrified of what they meant to do to her. She needed to escape but had no hope of outrunning them. So she had enacted the only plan she could think of with her head pounding and sharp pains darting through her chest every time she drew in a breath: feign sleep, eavesdrop, gather information, then sneak away at the first opportunity.
The hardest part so far had been keeping her heartbeat steady and slow despite her fear and not flinching when Roland had touched her sore ribs.
Well, no. The absolute hardest part had been not freaking out when Marcus had told Roland to feed, assuming she would be the main course.
The more she listened, though, the more uncertainty crowded her. Roland didn’t sound like the soulless predator she had seen suck the blood of that goth kid in her front yard. He sounded like the nice guy she had spent the day with. The one who had let her sleep on him without copping a feel, disinclined to complain about her weight resting on his many wounds.
He sounded protective of her.
“And Seth thinks
I’m
unreasonable,” Marcus muttered. “She knows what we are.”
“And she’s already seen me feed once, Marcus. I don’t want her to see me do it again. She’ll be scared enough when she wakes.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Clearly you didn’t see her face when she dove for the car and screeched away.”
Inwardly, she winced. Jeeze, that sounded cowardly.
“I was preoccupied, if you’ll recall,” Marcus responded dryly. “Besides, she was only afraid because she thought you were a vampire like the others. Once you explain that you’re not, that you’re an immortal, she’ll come around.”
He wasn’t a vampire? What was an immortal?
“The way Mary did?” Roland asked dryly.
Who was Mary?
Marcus snorted. “Mary was a twit, infected by the superstitions of her time and easily influenced by others.”
“She was not a twit. She was well-educated.”
“She was a bluestocking, a student of the classics with her head in the clouds. Despite her love of books, she knew little more of the world than her female peers and, as I said, was easily influenced by others. Perhaps if she had been capable of thinking for herself, she wouldn’t have betrayed you the way she did.”
Roland grunted.
“None of that matters, anyway, because Mary and Sarah are two different people. Mary would never have hit a man in the head with a shovel to save you. Sarah did.”
Well, that made her feel better.
“Plus, I happened to see a number of paranormal romance novels on her bookshelves when we were at her place, so she may not freak out at all.”
“What do you know about romance novels?” Roland asked skeptically.
“Bethany liked them. I recognized several she had read.”
“Well, liking the fiction doesn’t mean Sarah will like the reality.”
The pain in her head increased minutely when Roland carefully prodded the left side of her forehead, then brushed her hair back.
“I don’t really care whether she likes it or not as long as she accepts it and doesn’t rat us out.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Really? You, the king of paranoia, aren’t worried she’ll blab our secret?”
“If she did, who would believe her? She’d be locked
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