Needing some semblance of reality, Kadie went to visit Marti first thing in the morning. Marti hugged her as soon as she entered the house.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Marti exclaimed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You heard?" Kadie asked.

"It was all over town this morning, how Vaughan let Saintcrow take you without a fight."

"But how did it get around so fast?"

"Vaughan told Pauline. Of course he didn't say it right out like that. And Pauline passed the word. Let's talk in the kitchen. Rosemary is here. I just made a pot of coffee. Judging from the circles under your eyes, you look like you could use a cup."

"You're right about that," Kadie said, trailing Marti into the kitchen.

"Kadie, we heard all about it," Rosemary said with a sympathetic smile.

Kadie nodded as she took the seat across from Rosemary. Morgan Creek might not have a morning paper but that didn't keep people from knowing the latest news.

Marti set another mug on the table, filled all three cups, then sat down. "So, what's he like?" she asked, cutting right to the chase.

Stalling for time, Kadie added sugar and cream to her coffee. What was he like? "I really have no idea," she said at last. "He seems nice enough on the surface, I guess."

"Nice!" Rosemary rolled her eyes. "He's a killer. They're all killers."

"Maybe you've misjudged him," Kadie suggested. "I mean, I asked him outright if he was going to kill me. . . ."

"You what?" Marti shook her head in disbelief. "What did he say?"

"He said I wasn't in any danger."

"And you believed him?" Rosemary asked.

Kadie stared into her coffee cup. "I have to," she said quietly. She had to believe him. It was the only way she could get through the days ahead without going crazy with fear. "He let me drive his car to the store last night. Told me to buy whatever I needed, and then he showed up and followed me to the checkout line." She shook her head. "It was all so . . . so . . . I don't know. Bizarre."

Rosemary and Marti both sat back, their expressions thoughtful.

"He's probably just lulling you into a false sense of security," Rosemary remarked. "They're all monsters."

Kadie nodded, remembering that Saintcrow hadn't denied it when she accused vampires of killing humans. What had he said? It is, indeed.

"You're not wearing your scarf," Marti observed.

"I know. He said I didn't need it, that none of the other vampires would dare touch me now, on pain of death."

"I wonder why he keeps the other ones here." Marti glanced at Rosemary. "Do you know? You've been here the longest."

Rosemary shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe he just wants the company of his own kind."

Marti snorted. "I never thought of vampires as being social creatures."

"Me, either," Kadie said. "But then, until I came here, I never thought of them at all."

Marti and Rosemary both looked at her, and then, to Kadie's surprise, they burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Kadie asked.

"Nothing," Marti said, wiping tears from her eyes. "It's just that we've all said that very thing at one time or another."

Rosemary nodded. "Welcome to Morgan Creek, Kadie. You're truly one of us now."

One of them. It was a sobering thought and yet, to Kadie's amazement, it gave her a surprisingly unexpected sense of camaraderie.

"How long have you been here, Rosemary?" she asked.

"About twenty years, as near as I can figure."

"Twenty years," Kadie exclaimed softly. A lifetime of memories lost, she thought, thinking of all the birthdays, holidays, and graduations Rosemary had missed. Never knowing if her sons had married, if she had grandchildren, great-grandchildren. It was so unfair.

Kadie frowned thoughtfully. Rosemary was certain the vampires were killers, but if the vampires intended to kill the inhabitants of Morgan Creek, they certainly didn't seem to be in any hurry.

"It seems much longer," Rosemary said. "There's nothing to look forward to here, no reason to live."

Kadie murmured, "I'm sorry," because she couldn't think of anything else to say. The utter hopelessness in Rosemary's voice, the stark defeat in her eyes, tugged at Kadie's heart. "How did you get here?"

"Just stumbled into the place, the same as everyone else," Rosemary said. "We were on vacation. My husband and my four teenage sons had gone fishing. If only I'd gone with them! Instead, I decided to do a little sightseeing. I ended up here." She blinked rapidly, but not before Kadie saw her tears. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course you don't," Kadie said sympathetically. She sipped her coffee. It was hot and strong. She tried to think of a topic of conversation that was safe, but in the end, she asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. "Do either of you know anything about Saintcrow that you can tell me?"

Marti shook her head. "He's a mystery to all of us."

"In all the time I've been here, I've never seen him," Rosemary said. "The other vampires don't talk about him."

"The only thing I know is that he rode with King Richard in the Crusades," Kadie said.

"Did he tell you that?" Rosemary asked.

"No, Vaughan told me."

"That's so hard to believe." Marti looked bewildered. "Are you sure he didn't make that up?"

"I guess he could have," Kadie replied with a shrug. "But why would he?"

"Who knows why they do anything they do?" Rosemary's voice was tinged with bitterness. "They're vampires."

It explained everything.

And nothing.

"Tell us about yourself, Kadie," Marti said.

"There's not much to tell," she said wistfully. "I'm a freelance photographer and writer. I live in California with my folks and my younger sister, Kathy. She's very ill, but none of the specialists she's seen can diagnose the disease." Kadie bit down on her lower lip, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. "I've got to get home before it's too late."

It was midafternoon when Kadie took her leave. Reluctant to return to Saintcrow's house, she walked the few blocks to Main Street, her mind replaying the conversation she'd had with the women. She had a lot to learn about vampires and life in Morgan Creek. It seemed Marti and Rosemary had given up any hope of escape, Kadie mused, but she never would. There had to be a way out of here. There just had to be!

And what if there isn't? queried a little voice in the back of her mind. What then?

At loose ends, Kadie decided to check out the movie theater. She was surprised to discover there were four auditoriums, all playing different movies. She was a little disappointed that she had already seen them all, but she frequently saw movies she liked more than once.

There was no charge, of course, no one to take tickets, but Leslie and Chelsea were behind the concession counter, handing out popcorn, candy, and soft drinks.

"Hi, Kadie," Leslie said cheerfully. "What'll you have?"

"Popcorn and a root beer, please."

"Coming right up," Chelsea said.

Leslie leaned her elbows on the counter. "So, have you settled in yet?"

"I guess so."

"I hear you belong to Saintcrow now."

"I don't belong to anybody!" Kadie exclaimed indignantly, then quickly apologized for her outburst.

"It's all right," Leslie said. "We all get frustrated now and then."

"Do you two work here every day?" Kadie asked.

"We all take turns," Chelsea replied, handing Kadie a bag of popcorn and a large soda. "It helps to pass the time."

Nodding, Kadie thanked the women for their help, then went into the first auditorium. No one else was there.

The movie had been playing about twenty minutes when a man entered the auditorium. He glanced around, then took a seat in Kadie's row, leaving one seat between them.

"I'm Carl Freeman," he said, his voice gruff. "You must be Kadie Andrews." He didn't bother to whisper, since they were the only two in the place.

"Pleased to meet you," Kadie said.

He gestured at the screen. "This is a good one. Have you seen it?"

"Yes, back home."

"Where's home?"

"Morro Bay."

He nodded. "Pretty country down there. I'm from L.A." He grinned wryly. "Hard to believe anyone could miss the smog and the congested freeways, but I sure do."

"What did you do there?"

"I was a draftsman for a successful firm."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know, it's hard to keep track of time. Five years, maybe six. What difference does it make?"

Kadie nodded. His voice held the same note of despair as Rosemary's. "I've only met a few men who aren't vampires."

"We're few and far between."

"I was told there's a female vampire here. Have you met her?"

"Oh, yeah. Her name's Lilith. She's as ugly as sin and meaner than hell. She prefers to feed on men and, lucky me, I've become her private stock." He stared at the screen for a few minutes, his hands clenching around the scarf at his neck. "I tried to get one of the others to kill me, but they won't do it. I can't blame them. They're afraid of repercussions, I guess." He looked at Kadie intently. "I don't suppose you'd . . . ?"

"No," Kadie said quickly, horrified by the mere thought of taking a life. "Don't even ask."

He sank back in his seat, fidgeted a few minutes, then got up and left.

Kadie stared after him. Had his only reason for coming in here been to find out if she'd put him out of his misery?

It was dark when Kadie left the theater. Caught up in the misery of others, she paid little attention to her surroundings as she left Main Street. Earlier, with the sun shining brightly, she hadn't realized just how long a walk it was from Saintcrow's house to town. Now, strolling along the quiet, shadowy streets, she wished she had taken his car.

She had never been afraid of the dark, but then, she had never lived in a town full of vampires before. She jumped as a cat ran across her path. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. She was perfectly safe. Still, she was almost running when a man stepped out of the shadows to block her way.

She came to an abrupt halt, her heart pounding like that of a rabbit's caught in the jaws of a fox.

He didn't say anything, just stared at her. And then, before she even saw him move, he was on her, one arm holding her close while he sniffed her hair and skin. She opened her mouth to scream, but there was no need.

Muttering an oath, he pushed her away, then disappeared into the darkness.

My scent is on you now. No one will touch you on pain of death. She heard the words in her mind as clearly as if Saintcrow was standing beside her.

He was waiting for her in the living room when she entered the house. Dressed in black jeans and a gray T-shirt, he might have been an ordinary man but for the power that radiated from him like heat from a furnace. His hooded gaze swept over her, his nostrils flaring like a wolf scenting its prey.

She stood in the doorway, uncertain of what to do or say.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you enjoy your day?"

Kadie shrugged. "Not really."

"Did you enjoy your visit with Rosemary and Marti?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I know everything that happens in my town. You've been to the movies. You ate popcorn and drank a soda. You talked to Carl. He's still looking for someone to end his life. Quinn accosted you on your way here."

Kadie fisted her hands on her hips. "Why do you bother to ask about my day if you already know everything that happened?"

"Conversation brings people closer together."

"Maybe, but you're not people," she said flippantly, then swept past him on her way to the kitchen.

She decided on breakfast for dinner. Two slices of French toast, a couple of sausages, a glass of orange juice, a cup of coffee. It was quick and easy.

She refused to acknowledge Saintcrow, who stood in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the jamb, his arms folded over his impressive chest.

She carried everything to the table, sat with her back to him, and picked up her fork. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, knew he was watching her every move.

She tensed when he pushed away from the doorway and dropped into the seat across from hers.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

" No."

He lifted one brow. "No?"

"Is something wrong with your hearing?"

"Is this how you want it to be between us?" he asked darkly.

"There is no 'us,'" she retorted. "There's you and there's me. I can't fight you. I can't escape, but I don't have to like you, or talk to you."

"That's true." His eyes narrowed ominously. "I would remind you, though, that this is my town. My house. The vampires do as I say. The humans do as I say. You would be wise to remember that."

"You can threaten me all you like. It won't change the way I feel."

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "You put on a brave front, but it's all bravado. I can smell the fear on your skin, hear it in the rapid beat of your heart, see it in your eyes. Try as you might, you can't hide your thoughts from me."

She glared at him, hating him because he knew there was nothing behind her bluster but sheer terror. Try as she might, she couldn't wrap her mind around the reality sitting across from her. If vampires were more than myth, what of the other storybook monsters? Maybe there really were trolls under bridges and monsters under the bed.

Saintcrow unfolded from his chair and rounded the table. He stood next to her, his expression enigmatic, and then he lifted her to her feet. "I'll show you what's real," he said, his voice whiskey smooth.

Before she had time to think what he might mean, he bent her back over his arm and kissed her, his lips punishing hers, his tongue invading her mouth.

There was nothing of tenderness in his kiss. It was meant to humiliate her, to prove he was the one in control.

She didn't fight him. What was the use? There was no escape from the arms that imprisoned her, just as there was no escape from Morgan Creek.

He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up and down her back. His lips were warm and firm. His kiss gentled, his arm loosened around her, and she found herself kissing him back, clasping her hands at his nape.

He whispered something that sounded like an endearment in a language she didn't understand, and then he kissed her again. Heat engulfed her, spreading to every part of her body, arousing a need deep within her unlike anything she had ever known. What was he doing to her?

She was gasping for breath when he let her go.

He stared down at her for stretched seconds, his dark eyes flashing ebony fire. "Go to bed, Kadie," he said gruffly.

She didn't argue.

Her first instinct was to run up the stairs as fast as she could, but some ancient sense of self-preservation reminded her that she was prey and he was a predator. With that in mind, she made her way slowly up the stairs and quietly closed the door.

Saintcrow stood in the kitchen, hands balled into tight fists, as Kadie climbed the stairs to her room. He had known hundreds of women in his time, perhaps thousands. Old and young; pretty and not so pretty; sassy and submissive. None had appealed to him the way this one spitfire of a girl did. She didn't beg for her freedom. She didn't pretend to like him in hopes that he would relent and let her go. She would never stop trying to escape. He had to admire that.

He drew a deep breath, his nostrils filling with her unique scent. He could taste her on his tongue-warm and sweet, vibrant and alive. He had taken women in the past, used them as long as it pleased him and then thrown them away without a second thought.

But this woman-Kadie-he had known the moment he'd woken to her scent that he had to have her. He had sought her out in the library and other places, making sure she didn't see him.

He grinned inwardly. One of the perks of being the oldest, biggest badass of his kind was that no one ever dared oppose him.

Which meant Kadie Andrews was now his for as long as he wished it.

And whether she liked it or not, it was going to be for a good long time.

Kadie stood with her back against the door, her thoughts spinning round and round like a hamster on a wheel. She couldn't escape Morgan Creek. Saintcrow knew everything she did. She wasn't sure how, but it didn't alter the fact that her comings and goings, her innermost thoughts, were his. He was like a Greek god and she a lowly mortal, a minor piece on the chessboard of his life.

She trailed her fingertips over her lips. She couldn't escape from Saintcrow. And now, with the memory of his kiss and her reaction to it fresh in her mind, she didn't know if she wanted to run from the man or beg him to kiss her again.

She had been kissed before, many times. Most had been pleasant, a few had been remarkable, but none had been as amazing as Saintcrow's. Of course, he'd had over nine hundred years to perfect it.

Nine hundred years. Feeling suddenly weak, she slid down to the floor. What would it be like to live that long? She shook her head. It wasn't normal. Or natural. People weren't meant to live forever, at least not on Earth. Even contemplating eternity in the hereafter was beyond her comprehension. What would people do when forever stretched ahead of them?

Leaning her head back against the door, she closed her eyes. Saintcrow's image immediately sprang to the forefront of her mind. Piercing dark eyes. Broad shoulders. A massive chest. Long, long legs. Large hands . . . She shivered, remembering the touch of those hands in her hair, on her skin. The hard length of his body pressed against hers. The way his tongue had ravaged her mouth . . .

"Vampire." She forced the word past her lips. "Vampire," she repeated, more forcefully this time.

But first a man. Saintcrow's voice slid through her mind like honey warmed by the sun. A man who wants you. Who burns for your touch. Who hungers for your sweetness.

And with his words came the image of the two of them locked in each other's arms.

Clapping her hands over her ears, she shouted, "Get out of my head!"

She felt his withdrawal like a physical ache.

Gaining her feet, she undressed down to her underwear. Crawling under the covers, she pulled the blankets over her head, curled into a ball, and burst into tears.