wherever you wanted to go."
"Well," he admitted with a wry grin, "after I test-drove one for you, I sort of fell in love with it. I mean - " He shrugged. "I've never driven anything like it."
"Typical male," she muttered, and then laughed. There was nothing typical about Grigori. "What'll I do with my old car?"
"Whatever you want. Sell it. Junk it. Give it away."
She laughed then, laughed because she was happy, because Grigori was beside her, because, in three days, she would be his wife.
She was happy, so happy. She should have known it wouldn't last.
At seven-thirty a.m. Thursday morning, Edward Ramsey knocked at Marisa's door.
"Hi, Edward," Marisa said, yawning. "What are you doing here so early?"
"You haven't seen the papers, have you?" He thrust a copy of the L.A. Times in her face. "I think he's back."
She didn't have to ask who. Her hands were trembling as she took the newspaper and began to read.
VAMPIRE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN
The headlines screamed the news. She read the story quickly. The body of a young woman had been found in the Griffith Park area the night before. There had been no visible sign of a struggle, no indication of violence, save for the tiny wounds in her throat, and the fact that her body had been drained of blood.
Marisa stared at Edward, the paper falling, unnoticed, to the floor. He was back. Alexi was back. She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly cold clear through.
He was back.
"Is Chiavari still hanging around here?"
She nodded. "Come on in." Rubbing her hands over her arms, she went into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of black coffee.
Her parents were due in half an hour. Mike and Barbara would be arriving around noon.
She was getting married in two days.
Alexi Kristov had returned.
"After all that's happened, I can't believe you're still seeing Chiavari. The man's a vampire, for crying out loud."
"I love him." She took a deep breath. "We're getting married."
"Married!" Edward stared at her as if she'd just grown another head. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding."
Edward had picked up the paper on his way into the kitchen. Now he shook it in her face. "Vampire, Marisa! Does that ring a bell? He's no different from Kristov. Sure, he's handsome as hell, but he's still just a walking corpse. He's capable of murder, just like Kristov. You'll never be safe with him. Never! Some night he won't be able to control his hunger and he'll turn on you."
"Stop it!" She pressed her hands over her ears to shut out his voice. "Stop it! I won't listen."
"You will listen!" He dropped the newspaper and grabbed her hands, imprisoning them against his chest. "He's a killer. You know it. Stop thinking with your hormones and start using your head. Just because he comes in a pretty package doesn't change what he is. He's a vampire, and they're killers by nature."
"He's not! He told me he hasn't killed anyone in over a hundred and fifty years, except to preserve his own life, and I believe him."
"Then you're a fool. He wants you, Marisa, he's wanted you from the first, and he'll do anything, say anything, to have you."
She shook her head. "If he's what you say, he could have taken me at any time. He wouldn't have to marry me. He loves me."
"Dammit, Marisa, he's a vampire. He's incapable of love."
"No, no, no!" She tried to jerk her hands from his grasp. "Let me go, Edward."
"Not until you hear what I'm saying."
"I hear you."
"Do you?"
"Yes," she replied sullenly. "I hear you, but it doesn't change anything. I love him, and I'm going to marry him."
Edward stared at her a moment, and then, with a sigh of defeat, he released her hands. "It's your life," he muttered. "I guess you can throw it away if you want. But before you make a fatal mistake, ask him. Ask him how many people he's killed in the last two hundred years. Don't listen to that crap about not hunting where he lives, or only killing in self-defense. Just ask him flat-out. Ask him how many lives he's taken to sustain his own. And then ask yourself if you want to be next."
"Edward - "
She called after him, but it was too late. He was already gone.
The door had barely closed behind him when her parents arrived.
Chapter Thirty
"Marisa!" Her mother hugged her tightly, then stepped back and looked her up and down. "How well you