into the tent. She had been facing the doorway. Surely she would have seen him come in. He was not a man who would pass unnoticed.
His long black hair was wet from the rain. His brows were thick and straight. He was tall and broad shouldered, with the trim build of an athlete, yet his skin was pale, as if he didn't spend much time in the sun. He wore a bulky gray sweater; tight black jeans hugged his long legs. There was mud on his boots.
"Forgive me," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
His voice was low and deep, and it slid over her skin like warm satin.
"That's all right."
He glanced at the place where the coffin had been and she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. And then, like a wolf sniffing the air, he lifted his head, his nostrils flaring.
Marisa shivered as his eyes met hers, deep black eyes that seemed to probe the very depths of her heart and soul. The devil would have eyes like that. The thought came out of nowhere.
"Did you come to see it, too?" she asked. "The vampire, I mean?"
"Yes."
She took a step backward, uncomfortable standing so close to him without knowing why. "They told me it's being restored, whatever that means."
A smile so faint she wasn't sure it even qualified as a smile touched his lips. Full, sensuous lips. "Is that what they said?"
Marisa nodded, enchanted by his voice. Never had she heard anything like it: low, mellifluous. An angel's voice.
Grigori studied the woman for a moment, noting that she was quite lovely. Her shoulder-length hair was dark brown with a slight curl; her eyes were bright and green, like fine-quality emeralds. Her lips were finely sculpted, warm and generous.
Inviting. A pink sweater and faded black Levi's revealed a petite figure with softly rounded curves in all the right places.
"And do you believe in vampyres?" he asked.
"Of course not. He was probably just some old guy they hired for a few days." Yes, she thought, that was it.
"Yet you came back. I wonder why."
"I'm not sure." She met his gaze, a challenge in her eyes. "You don't look much like a man who believes in vampires and things that go bump in the night, either, but you're here."
He lifted one black brow. "Indeed? You would be surprised by what I believe in."
"No doubt," Marisa retorted. "Well..." She settled her handbag on her shoulder. "Good night."
He stared after her a moment, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she exited the tent. Then, remembering his reason for being there, he crossed the floor and delved through the trash can until he found a wadded-up handkerchief. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, a quiver of longing running through him as he inhaled the scent of blood.
His eyelids flew open as he recognized the scent. It was the woman's blood that stained the cloth.
Shoving the handkerchief into his back pocket, he hurried after her.
Standing in the rain, he watched her climb behind the wheel of a late-model Honda Prelude. And then, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, oblivious to the lightning that split the clouds, he followed her home.
Marisa took a long, hot shower, sprinkled herself liberally with dusting powder, then pulled on a pair of stretch jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of thick socks and curled up on the sofa. She nipped through the TV channels for a minute, then switched off the set. Reaching for a book, she tried to read, but after she found herself reading the same page for the fourth time, she tossed the book aside.
Too restless to sit still, she went into the kitchen to fix something to eat and then, on a whim, decided to go out instead.
She pulled on a pair of boots, and then, grabbing her purse and an umbrella, she left the house. The rain was no more than a fine mist now, though the clouds still hung dark and ominous in the sky. She contemplated taking her car, but decided a walk in the fresh air would do her good.
Angelo's was her favorite restaurant, a cozy little Italian place with red-checked tablecloths, candles in old Chianti bottles, and a relaxed atmosphere. It was located a couple of blocks away, and Marisa went there often. The owners were friendly and the spaghetti couldn't be beat.
Standing under the restaurant's awning, Marisa shook the rain from her umbrella, then went inside and took a seat at a