"My lord."
"I've got an errand to run on the way over, Em. It won't take long."
"I hope not,” she said dryly. “Being stuck in this warehouse is like being trapped in a monkey cage. These guys need to be let out."
He laughed. “Not much longer. I'm on my way.” But first, he thought to himself, there's the matter of a stubborn little human to deal with.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sarah pulled her sweater over her head, smoothing it over her h*ps and checking to make sure the lace on her bra didn't look lumpy beneath the fine weave. Her freshly shampooed hair shone in the overhead light of her bedroom, and she'd put on just enough makeup to give her eyes a slightly smoky quality, the gold flecks like bits of fire in the smoke. Oh, get a grip, Sarah. Flecks of fire in the smoke, for God's sake. She laughed at herself. Clearly she'd been reading too many of those romance novels she was so fond of.
Of course, she was nothing like the kick-ass he**ines in those books. She had never fired a gun, never used a knife—unless the ones in her kitchen drawer counted. And although she kept herself fit, there was no way she was going to high-kick anyone into submission. She was too short for one thing, and a little too curvy and five pounds too heavy, no matter how many mornings she ran her five-mile circuit. Some men liked her curves, though. Not usually the right men, but at least it proved she wasn't a total toad.
And why was she spending so much time getting ready anyway? This wasn't a date. Quite the opposite. She intended to read Raj the riot act and send him on his way. That was it.
"This definitely isn't a date,” she scolded her reflection for the umpteenth time. Of course, that begged the question of why she was wearing her best lace push-up bra and had taken the time to put on eye shadow in the first place. Oh well, gotta create the smoke for those flecks of fire, right?
She laughed out loud, like a crazy person, and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her shoes. They weren't designed by anyone famous—like most women, she didn't have the budget to spend five hundred dollars on a pair of shoes. But they were nice and, more importantly, they had a four inch heel so she wouldn't feel like such a shrimp standing next to Raj. Not that this was a date or anything. She stood and turned off the overhead light as she walked out of the bedroom, ready to beard the lion in his den. Or her den. Or whatever. Because this definitely wasn't a date.
Raj took the stairs up to Sarah's porch in a graceful leap. He was in a hurry to get over to the warehouse and didn't have time to waste pretending to be human. He put his hand on the doorknob and, finding it unlocked, twisted it open and walked in, knocking as he did so.
He caught Sarah halfway down the stairs. She was wearing a different bra, one that made her obvious curves even more obvious beneath a soft wool sweater. And what the hell was he noticing that for? She was looking at him in shock, which quickly changed to outrage.
"Just come on in, why don't you?"
"I did, thanks,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “You ever think of locking your door?"
"What would be the point? It wouldn't stop you, would it?"
"Nice. You about ready to leave?"
"Leave? Are we going somewhere?"
"Yes. I have a stop to make and then I'm taking you to dinner."
"Are you?” she asked, in a tone that implied quite the opposite. She came down another couple of steps but stayed on the staircase which put her at eye level with him. “What happened last night? And I want the truth, not more of your vampire bullshit."
"I wasn't aware I'd given you any vampire bullshit,” he said mildly.
"Ha, ha. What happened, Raj? And don't say nothing, because I know damn well you did something to my memories, and it sure as hell wasn't consensual."
Raj pulled back in surprise. First of all, she shouldn't have remembered anything, but secondly, her choice of words made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't take women against their will. Not ever. Not since that first night in the tavern when he'd been too out of his mind to realize what was happening. Sarah was waiting for an answer, glaring at him accusingly. She'd done something with her eyes that brought out the gray but didn't hide the gold flecks that were always there.
"We talked about the missing women,” he said slowly. “It was . . . you were upset. More than upset. I didn't understand why, but it bothered me to see you like that, so I put you out and took away the memories so you wouldn't have nightmares."
It was a version of the truth, anyway. She hadn't been upset precisely, although she'd definitely been out of control. And he didn't want to add to her nightmares by inflicting himself on her life.
Sarah was watching him, searching his face, looking for the truth, he figured. He stared back at her calmly and knew the moment she decided to believe him. “Don't ever do that again, Raj,” she said softly. “Not for any reason. My memories are mine, good and bad, and I'll deal with them. I can't stand the idea of anyone messing around in my head."
There was more to that than what she was saying, and it made him wonder what had happened in her past. Did it have anything to do with whatever she was hiding? “I'm sorry,” he said.
She smiled all at once, as if he'd surprised her. “Well, that's something you don't hear every day.” Her expression abruptly became serious again and she gave him a funny look. “Er, Raj, we didn't, that is, um . . . we didn't—"
"Sarah,” he said softly, catching her eyes. “If I'd made love to you, you'd remember it."
Her face flushed a delightful pink. “Arrogant bastard,” she muttered, but she smiled at him again, and he felt a weight lift from his soul. “Okay. Let me get my coat."
He watched her walk past him down the rest of the stairs, watched her tight ass swing by beneath a pair of dark blue slacks, with those damn sexy heels she was always wearing. “Better make it a heavy coat,” he said. “It's cold out. Maybe the one you had on the other night.” The one that hides the temptation of your sweet little body, he added to himself.