never wash away the fear or the vile memory of being touched by an unwanted hand. Thank God for Jason, she mused, and never thought to question what he'd been doing there.
Jason stood in the living room, his keen hearing easily picking up the sounds Leanne made as she undressed and then stepped into the tub. It was so easy to picture her lying there, the water surrounding her, caressing her, as he so longed to do?
With an oath he threw the wine glass into the fireplace, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he watched the glass shatter, falling onto the stone hearth like crystal raindrops. If only he could destroy his need with such ease.
He prowled the room, his fists shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his desire clawing at him with each step. So easy, he thought, so easy to take her, to make her his, to bind her to him forever, body and soul.
The sound of the bathroom door opening echoed in his mind like thunder.
Leanne gasped as he whirled around to face her. The heat in his eyes seemed to engulf her so that she felt suddenly hot all over, as though she were standing in front of a blazing fire.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him, wondering if she had imagined that heated look.
"Would you care for more wine?"
"No. I?"
"What is it?"
"I'm awfully tired. Would you mind if I went to bed?"
"Of course not, but you can't sleep in those clothes."
A faint flush brightened her cheeks. "I don't have anything else."
"I'll get you something."
He went into the bedroom, his gaze lingering on the bed. He'd lived in this house for twenty years, he mused, and no one had ever used the bed. It pleased him to think of Leanne lying there, her hair spread on the pillow, her scent permeating the sheets.
Going to the dresser, he drew out a long nightgown. He'd bought it because the color was the same vibrant green as her eyes; because, for one irrational moment, he had wanted to pretend he was an ordinary man buying a gift for the special lady in his life. He had bought it and put it away. Now, he held it in his hands, the silkiness of the material reminding him of Leanne's satin-smooth skin.
"Is that for me?" She had followed him into the bedroom.
"What do you think?"
"I thought?" She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. "When you stopped coming to the theater, I thought you might have found someone else."
He shook his head. "There will never be anyone else, Leanne."
"Then why? Why haven't you come to see me? Did I do something wrong?"
"No." He thrust the gown into her hands, then left the room, firmly closing the door behind him. He never should have brought her here.
He stood, in the living room in front of the fireplace, fighting the urge to go to her, to sweep her into his arms and satisfy the awful lust that was roaring through him, the lust to possess her, to drink and drink of her life-sustaining sweetness, and then give it back to her.
He clenched his hands into tight fists, wondering if he had the strength to continue seeing her and not possess her. He knew, at the very core of his being, that their joining would be everything he dreamed of, everything he yearned for.
It would be so easy to take her blood, to bind her to him for all eternity, and end the awful loneliness of his existence, but he recoiled at the very idea of condemning her to the kind of life he led. To do so would be the worst kind of betrayal.
Leanne had brought joy back into his life, had drawn him out of the depths of despair and given him a reason to rise in the evening. To condemn her to a life in the shadows would be the worst kind of cruelty.
He should send her away now, before it became impossible, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he would not do it. Soon, he thought, soon he would send her away, but not now, when he had just found her. He hoped only that he was strong enough to keep his accursed lust at bay, that there was enough humanity left in him to let her go when the time came.
He felt his whole body tense as the bedroom door opened. Without looking, he knew she was standing there, watching