ran up the stairs to the turret room, made her way cautiously down the spiral staircase behind the tapestry, then paused.
Was she making a mistake? Who knew what lay at the end of the tunnel? She suspected it might lead to Saintcrow’s lair, but what if it didn’t? What if that dark passageway led to a dungeon filled with skeletons, or worse, living prisoners who had displeased the master vampire? What if it was filled with bags of blood? Or bags of gold? That might not be as far-fetched as it sounded, she thought. He drove an expensive car. He paid for food and drink for all the people who lived in Morgan Creek, as well as the utility bills for his house, and the rest of the town.
Driven by a need to know what he was hiding, Kadie moved slowly, quietly, down the tunnel. It was eerie, moving through the darkness with only a flashlight to illuminate the way. Her footsteps sounded very loud in the silence that surrounded her.
The tunnel went on and on, straight as an arrow.
Overcome by an unexpected bout of claustrophobia, she came to an abrupt halt, suddenly certain that the tunnel extended far beyond the house.
Forward or back? Which way should she go? She took a step forward, then turned on her heel and started back, only to pause again. She had come this far; why not go on?
Tamping down her fear that the tunnel would collapse, trapping her beneath tons of earth, she hurried forward. To her surprise, the tunnel ended at another door after a few yards.
She ran the light over the door. It was made of oak, crisscrossed with iron straps. There was no lock. No handle. Placing her hand in the center of the wood, she gave it a push. Nothing happened.
Chewing on her thumbnail, she focused the light on the door again. There had to be some way to open it. Starting at the top right corner, she ran her hand over the entire door, then along the lintel and the sides. Nothing happened.
With a sigh of defeat, she made her way back to the staircase, only to find that the door she had come through was no longer open.
She pushed it. She kicked it. She beat on it with her fists until her hands ached and her knuckles were swollen and bloody. But the door refused to budge.
Alarm quickly turned to panic. What if this didn’t lead to Saintcrow’s lair? What if it led to some long-abandoned storeroom and no one ever came down here?
Her stomach churned with horror.
She was trapped in the tunnel with nothing but a flashlight.
And no one in Morgan Creek knew where she was.
Chapter 19
Saintcrow woke with the setting of the sun. For a time, he remained in bed, thinking about Kadie and the night they had shared. It still amazed him that, after over nine hundred years, he had found a woman who pleased him in every way, a woman who was rapidly becoming far too important to him.
Her scent lingered on his skin, reminding him of the intimacies they had shared. He felt a brief twinge of guilt for taking her virginity. He had done a great many things he regretted, but it had been a matter of pride with him that no matter what other atrocities he had committed, he had never defiled a woman nor killed a child. To ease his conscience, he reminded himself that he hadn’t taken Kadie against her will. Far from it. She had been all too willing.
Jackknifing into a sitting position, he raked his fingers through his hair, then opened his senses, homing in on his blood link to her.
He felt her terror as if it was his own. She was trapped in the tunnel, had been trapped there, in the dark, for hours.
Not bothering to dress, he left his lair with all the speed at his command. Seconds later, he was at her side.
“Kadie, I’m here.”
“Rylan!” She collapsed against him, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
“It’s all right now,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “I’ve got you.” A thought opened the door behind the tapestry, another carried the two of them into the living room, a third lit a fire in the hearth.
He sat on the sofa, holding her against his chest, cradling her head on his shoulder. The scent of her blood teased his nostrils. Taking her hands in his, he licked the blood from her knuckles, sealing the wounds, then whispered