Dead Perfect

With a shake of her head, she turned off the water in the shower, dried off, and wrapped herself in a towel.



A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. She opened it a crack to see Ronan on the other side, a large plastic shopping bag in his hand.



He handed her the sack. “I think you’ll find everything you need inside.”



“Thank you.”



After closing the door, she delved into the bag, removing a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt, a black bra and a pair of matching panties, a pair of low-heeled sandals, a nightgown, a comb, a brush, a toothbrush and toothpaste.



She dressed quickly, combed out her hair, stepped into the sandals, and went into the other room.



Ronan turned away from the window when she entered the room.



“I can’t believe you found all this in the gift shop,” Shannah remarked.



“I didn’t.” His gaze moved over her. “Everything fit all right?”



She felt a flush burn her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, “everything.”



“Are you feeling any better?”



“A little,” she admitted, frowning. “But there’s something bothering me and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Something I should remember. It seems important…”



“I’m sure it will come to you, in time, if it’s important.”



“I guess so,” she said doubtfully.



“Would you like to go out for a while?” he asked.



She nodded, thinking some fresh air and a walk might do her some good.



“Have you had dinner?” he asked.



“No, I’m not hungry.”



“You need to eat.”



“Not now.” The very thought of food make her sick to her stomach.



He didn’t argue.



After leaving the hotel, they walked in silence for a while. Shannah felt numb inside, as if a part of her had died in the crash. Maybe she should have died, she thought glumly. At least it would have been quickly over. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her. What if it took her months and months to die? She didn’t want to suffer for a long time, to lie in a hospital bed and slowly waste away.



“Hey,” Ronan said, “why so quiet?”



She shrugged. “I was just thinking about…” Her eyes narrowed and she turned to look at him.



“On the plane, you promised me that whatever happened, you’d keep me safe.”



He shrugged. “What did you want me to say? I was trying to make you feel better.”



“But there was more…why can’t I remember?”



Taking her by the hand, he said, “Come on, let’s get a drink.”



They found a quiet night club on the next block. Shannah ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri and Ronan ordered a glass of red wine.



He studied her over the rim of his glass, wondering what he would say if she suddenly remembered everything that had happened before the crash. He told himself there was nothing to worry about and yet he wasn’t so sure. No one else had ever recalled being hypnotized by him. Perhaps it was the result of the blood he had given her. Perhaps it had weakened his power over her and, at the same time, strengthened her will to resist his telepathic suggestions. If she remembered everything he had said on the plane before the crash and after, it would require a great deal of explanation.



Jim Hewitt looked up at the small television set that was located on a shelf in a corner of the bar.



“Hey, Overstreet,” he called, “look at this. Bartender, can you turn up the sound?”



“What’s going on?” Carl Overstreet looked up at the screen where a television reporter was standing in front of the smoldering wreckage of a plane.



“Remember when we followed Black and her publicist to the airport? Didn’t they leave on Flight 271?”



Overstreet snorted. “If he’s her publicist, I’m Jane Pauley.”



Hewitt jerked his chin toward the TV. “That’s Flight 271. Good thing we couldn’t get tickets.”



“Yeah,” Overstreet muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Good thing.”



Hewitt grunted. It hadn’t seemed like a good thing at the time. Once Eva Black had boarded the plane, she had been lost to them, at least temporarily. Now it looked like she was gone for good, and with her their only link to her companion.



“Do you think he was killed?” Overstreet asked.



Hewitt shrugged, his gaze intent on the screen. “I don’t know. Vampires are susceptible to fire, just like anyone else. Maybe more so.”



“Yeah, but…wait a minute,” Overstreet said. “Listen to this.”



“…. Miss Eva Black and her companion, Mr. Dark, were the sole survivors when the plane’s engine malfunctioned and crashed in this barren stretch of Iowa countryside. Neither Miss Black, a well-known author who resides in Northern California, nor her companion, Mr. Dark, were available for comment. In other news…”



Hewitt grinned. He’d bet his last dollar that Mr. Dark was none other than Ronan.



“What’s so funny?” Overstreet asked.



“Just thinking that this is our lucky day. So, what do you say, Carl, you up for another trip to sunny California?”



“Sure, I’ve got nothing else to do.” With a shrug, the reporter tossed off his drink. “But how do we find him when we get there?”



“As it happens, I know how to find him.”



Using the ticket the airlines had given her, Shannah booked a flight home for the next night.



Ronan was able to get a seat on the same flight. He watched her carefully as they boarded the plane, but she did so without fear.



The flight was uneventful. When they arrived at the airport, Ronan hailed a cab.



Shannah sat beside him, silently staring out the window.



It was after midnight when they reached Ronan’s house. Shannah felt a sense of homecoming unlike anything she had ever felt before as she stepped across the threshold.



Funny, that this big old house that wasn’t even hers felt more like home than her own apartment.



She waited for Ronan to lock the door and switch on the lights. “Do you still want me to live here, with you?” she asked.



“Yes. Why? You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”



“No.”



Murmuring her name, he drew her into his arms. The plane crash had reminded him anew of how fragile human life was, how quickly it could be snuffed out. He wanted to spend every moment possible with the woman in his arms. He wanted her with him forever.



Shannah leaned against him, her head pillowed on his chest, her eyes closed. The sound of his heartbeat soothed her. His arms were strong around her, protective, comforting. She was safe here, with him. Nothing could hurt her while he was there…



Trust me, love, there’s nothing to fear. I won’t let anything hurt you.



The words echoed so loudly in her mind she looked up to see if he had spoken.



“Did you say something?”



“No, why?”



“I thought…never mind. It’s late,” she said, smothering a yawn. “I think I’ll go to bed.”



“All right.”



“Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?”



“If you wish.”



“Give me a few minutes, okay?”



Nodding, he watched her climb the stairs until she was out of sight, and then he began to pace the floor. Had he made a mistake in asking her to move in? It would be harder to keep his secret, harder to explain his continued absences during the day. And yet he could not abide the thought of letting her go. She was too fragile to live alone. He needed to have her nearby, where he could keep watch over her, where he could come to her aid should she need it. He was not entirely helpless during the day. If she needed him when he was at rest, he could, with a great deal of effort, rise to meet her needs, so long as she was inside the house.



He waited fifteen minutes and then he went up the stairs to her bedroom. She was already in bed, her hair spread around her shoulders in waves of black silk. She looked up at him through eyes shadowed with remorse and he wondered how long it would take her to get over feeling guilty because she had survived, and be grateful that she was still alive. He knew he could wipe the guilt from her memory, but he was reluctant to mess with her mind too often.



Wordlessly, he drew her into his arms, one hand stroking her back. “I’m glad you survived,” he murmured. “My existence wouldn’t be the same without you.”



“Your existence?”



“My life,” he amended easily.



“Do I really mean that much to you?”



“That much and more,” he said fervently. “Until you came into my life, I was lost and I didn’t even know it.”



“I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”



“I want to make you happy, love. If there’s anything you want, you have only to name it. Do whatever you want in the house, buy whatever you wish, whatever you need.”



“That’s very generous of you.”



“Not really. I’m just being selfish.”



“It doesn’t sound selfish to me.”



“Ah, but it is, don’t you see? Making you happy makes me happy.”



She smiled up at him. “Maybe that’s why I was spared,” she remarked. “To spend my last few days making you happy.”



“Perhaps. Let’s not question fate, let’s just enjoy the time we have.”



“I love you, Ronan.”



“Shannah!”



“Do you love me?”



“More than you can imagine.”



With a sigh, she snuggled against him, her arms around his waist.



He held her until she fell asleep, held her until the hunger gnawing at his insides could no longer be ignored.



Brushing a kiss across her brow, he settled her under the covers, and then he went out into the night to search the drifting shadows for prey.



Chapter Seventeen



After five hundred and thirteen years as a vampire, it didn’t take Ronan long to find that which he sought, that which he needed. He fed quickly, neatly, and went on his way.