"I did not!"
He laughed, a purely masculine sound, full of confident sexuality. “You've never been to a blood house before, have you?” he asked.
"What's a blood house?"
Raj lifted his chin, gesturing toward the dance floor. “This, sweetheart. Blood and sex for the taking . . . and the giving."
"Oooh,” she said and felt her face heating with renewed embarrassment. “I didn't know. I'm sorry, I—"
"Don't apologize,” he said cheerfully. “I quite enjoyed it."
She looked up at him quickly, wondering what—
"Nothing happened, Sarah. You just sort of drifted away while we were dancing. I'd be insulted—” He lowered his voice. “—but since you were dreaming about me . . ."
Sarah gave him a disgusted look.
"You know,” Raj continued, his amusement obvious, “I get to Buffalo every once in a while. Maybe we'll meet again."
"Maybe not."
"Ah, now. Stranger things have happened."
"Not to me,” she muttered. She flashed suddenly on her dreams of tormented women and shuddered, knowing that wasn't quite true.
Raj frowned and moved closer, putting one of his huge hands on her arm. “Are you cold, sweetheart?"
She felt inexplicable tears pressing against the back of her eyes and lowered her head so he wouldn't see, focusing on the glass of champagne she was still holding. “I'm fine,” she lied. “Just tired. I'm not usually up this late. I live a very boring life in Buffalo."
"We'll have to change that then, won't we?"
Sarah took another sip of her now warm champagne and wondered what it was she really wanted. Back in Buffalo, all she'd wanted was for things to return to the way they were, the way they'd been before the dreams came back. But now . . . She heard Cyn and Raphael returning from the dance floor, heard them laughing with each other as they settled back onto the banquette. And she felt the solid presence of Raj standing next to her, the comfort of having a protector, even for a short time, someone who stood between her and the rest of the cold world.
And suddenly she wasn't sure what she wanted at all.
The next night, Sarah opened the door of the big SUV and jumped out, walking around the back where one of Raphael's vamps was waiting with her small rolling suitcase and the hanging bag with the new red dress in it. She took the bag and draped it over her arm, running a hand down the nylon cover as if stroking the dress beneath it. She glanced at Cyn who was waiting to say good-bye. “I'll probably never wear this again,” she said wistfully.
"There's always the faculty Christmas party."
"My colleagues would have apoplexy, and their wives would be convinced I'm trying to steal their pale, chubby husbands away from them."
Cyn laughed. “Sounds like a lovely bunch. I'll have to visit sometime."
Sarah added her own laughter. “You'd die of boredom before you ever got out of the airport.” She looked up and met her friend's green eyes. “Thanks, Cyn. I had a great time."
Cyn studied her for a minute. “You call me, Sarah. If you need anything, you call me, okay? Even if it's just a friendly voice."
"I will.” She hugged Cyn, then grabbed the handle of her overnight case. “I gotta get going or I'll miss my flight."
"Take care.” Cyn kissed her cheek before walking back around and sliding into the SUV. Sarah stopped to wave awkwardly around her baggage and saw Raphael's arm circle Cyn's shoulder and pull her close, as if even that few minutes apart had been too much.
She stood and watched until they were gone, then trudged into the terminal as the automatic doors whisked open in front of her. She had a life waiting for her back in Buffalo. Maybe not the one she would have chosen, maybe not even the one she'd planned when she took the job there. But at least they didn't lock her up at night. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Six
"So what'd he say?"
Raj rested his elbows on the rooftop railing, ignoring the question to gaze moodily at the busy Manhattan street thirty-five stories below. He leaned forward and stared intently, thinking he'd seen a woman in a red dress. He laughed at himself. Sarah Stratton was long gone, back to her books and her classrooms. She'd been right about one thing. He'd probably never see her again. Which would be a shame, he decided and immediately wondered why he'd thought that.