Shadows Strike

"You look beat," she said, her lips curling up in a sympathetic smile.

He sighed. "I am."

"Me, too. I think all of the adrenaline and fear and everything else has  just sucked the energy right out of me. Would you like to try to get  some sleep?"

His pulse leapt as images of lying beside Heather filled his mind . . . of turning toward her in bed, pulling her to him, and—

"Your eyes are glowing again," she whispered.

He swore and brought a hand to them as if he could rub  the damned luminescence out of them. "I'm sorry. I had a fleeting image  of lying in bed with you and . . ."

"Oh." Her tone reflected surprise and he couldn't decide what else.

"I know. But I promise I'm not a total degenerate. I'm  just tired and seem to have no control over my body when I'm around  you." Lowering his hand, he forced himself to meet her gaze and almost  did a double take.

A wide smile brightened her features. "That is so cool."

He arched a brow. "What is?"

"I don't have to guess if you're attracted to me because  it's all right there in your eyes. And I don't mean in a corny  chick-flick kind of way. But in a Bam! in-your-face kind of way. It's like a sexual barometer or a mood ring."

He laughed. "Well, it's not so cool from my perspective, because I can't hide it. You, on the other hand, can, so I have no idea what you think of me."

Her smile softened as she studied him. "I'm attracted to  you, too, Ethan. But I'm annoyingly old-fashioned and don't take sex as  casually as most of my peers do. Feel free to blame my grandparents. I  spent a lot of time around them when I was growing up."

"I'm a century older than you, or thereabouts, so you can't be more old-fashioned than I am." He grimaced. "Hell. I probably shouldn't have mentioned my age, should I?"

"Relax. You don't look a day over sixty."

Sixty!

She burst into laughter and patted his knee. "I'm just kidding. You know you're hot."

Ethan groaned. "You're evil."

"And you're tired. Why don't you sleep for a bit. I  signed the confidentiality agreement, so you don't have to worry about  me trying to sneak pictures of your fangs or calling all the news  outlets while you rest."

Smiling, he shook his head. "And what will you do while I sleep?"

"Find a permanent marker and draw a mustache and bushy eyebrows on your face."

He laughed. "I really like you, Heather."

"I like you, too. So . . . get some sleep. The bedroom is through there."

"What will you do while I rest?"

"Unless I'm called in to observe an interrogation, I'll just read a book. Watch TV." 

She winked. "Paint my toenails."

"Damn, I hate to miss watching you paint your toenails."

She laughed.

"May I crash here on the sofa beside you?" For some  reason, he just wanted to be near her. Perhaps because he knew he would  have no excuse to remain with her or to even see her again once the rain  began to fall tonight.

She grinned. "Yes, you may crash on my sofa."

Smiling, Ethan tugged off his boots and propped his big  feet on her coffee table. Slouching down on the soft cushions, he folded  his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes.

The sound of her heartbeat soothed him as her scent followed him into dreams.