2

One more step. And another. He forced his legs to move. Forced himself to survive. Again. Why?

Instinct, he guessed. Had to be. Even his kind fought for another day at life—such as it was. He felt the skin on the back of his right hand sizzle. He glanced down and saw the slight twist of smoke lifting from his flesh as the first, barest hint of sunlight touched him. Aleron clenched his teeth against the searing pain and told himself it was no more than he deserved.

“Something’s burning,” she said, never slowing, never stopping. “Close by.”

Yes. Closer than she thought. He slumped against her as the sizzle and heat began on his cheek now.

Exposed flesh went up as kindling and Aleron knew he was only moments from being engulfed. And if the flames took him while she was wrapped around him, this Good Samaritan would die along with him. 

He couldn’t have that. He’d done enough damage in his too long life already. Pushing free of her, he staggered forward.

“What’re you doing?” She tried to grab him again, but he lurched ahead, aimed at the open barn door.

“You said I could go in there, right?” he asked, needing her to invite him in or he couldn't enter. 

“Well, yes you can, but —”

“Stay back.” Two words, delivered as an order not to be ignored. Then he lunged for the cool shadows within the barn and toppled into them once past the threshold. Instantly, relief poured over him like the cool kiss of ice.

The darkness swallowed him, and Aleron felt his body begin to heal slowly, begin to awaken now that the morning light had been beaten back. He stirred, scraping his right hand on the rough wooden planks beneath him, and hissed in a breath as the rawness of his flesh erupted with pain. He cradled that hand in his other one and half turned to look at the woman standing in a slice of growing daylight. He squinted at her, made sure he was completely in the shadows, then said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t come any closer and Aleron wondered if she was already regretting her good deed for the day.

Bracing her feet, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, tipped her head to one side and said softly, 

“Now, why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

“I’d like to know the same thing,” he said, rather than answering her question. “I thought no one lived here.”

“No one did until a few months ago,” she said. “Now I do, and I still want to know why you’re here.”

Wincing a bit, he sat up and moved to one side, where he could brace his back against one of the stalls lining the old barn. In a split second, he took in the whole structure, noting that the barn was empty but for a minivan, a riding lawnmower— and, wouldn’t you know it, there were a few slivers of growing daylight slanting through the gaps in the roof shingles. He nearly hissed at the sight, but managed to contain himself. When he looked back at her, he could see more than concern on her features. Her deep blue eyes were worried.

Almost haunted. He knew what that felt like and in spite of the situation, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I used to live here,” he said.

“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced. “Because when I bought the place several months ago, it wasn't really in good shape, and it looked as though no one had lived here in forever.”

True enough. “It was a long time ago.”

“Uh-huh.” Still not convinced. “So why’re you here now?”

He fingered the back of his head, pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped. His strength was returning, and now that the sun was no longer a threat, he couldn't wait for nightfall so he could leave.

“I got here last night. Saw the lights and was going to leave.” That was the truth, although not all of it. 

He’d been pretty pissed off about it, too. Having escaped his enemies, he'd come here to rest, but knew he couldn't stay when he saw that the house was now occupied. He had decided to spend the night in a nearby cave, but before he could leave, he’d sensed something in the woods. Not a vampire. But someone, watching the house.

When whoever it was had left, Aleron let them go. He was too weak to fight anyway, but then his weakness overcame him…

“I must have passed out or something. Next thing I knew, you were standing over me. I think someone attacked me.” 

That last part wasn't the real truth. Yes, he'd been attacked, but it'd happened before he got here, and he needed a story that'd make sense to this human and not frighten her. 

Too late. His plan failed. 

Her eyes went wide and frightened. “Did you see who it was?”

“No.” He blamed himself for that slip up, but he was still quite surprised to find his former home now occupied. 

Seraphine Clarke shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Frightening enough to find a nearly unconscious man in her front yard at the crack of dawn. But knowing that someone else had been sneaking around her house in the middle of the night was downright terrifying. What if the person found her? What if he or she was watching her right now?

She hunched her shoulders against unseen eyes and fought for the calm she’d worked so hard to find. Pushing her fears back, she raked her gaze over her unexpected guest. 

A tall man, he was tired right now, but she’d felt the strength in him as he’d leaned on her moments ago. He wore black jeans, worn boots, a gray sweater and a short, black leather coat. His features were sharp, as if carved from stone with an ax. His eyes were dark, like his hair, his nose was long and narrow and his mouth was thinned into a grim slash.

Even injured, he carried an air of power that was nearly intoxicating—even to a woman who knew better than to trust a handsome man.

Still, if she were to guide her life by past mistakes, then she would have nothing. She had to move forward. Had to trust herself, or she would never be free. Seraphine looked into his deep brown eyes and said, “Look, you’re hurt. So you can stay here for a while, if you want.”