Page 12 of Wicked Ways

An animal. Women like her don’t go for animals. The vampire had been right about that one.

“I didn’t imagine it, did I?” Not as much hesitation now, more determination. “Your eyes—they glowed. Your teeth were sharper.” She reached for his hand, fumbled a bit, then caught his fingers. “And you—you had claws.”

The shock had worn off. While he’d been lusting, she’d obviously been in there replaying the whole night and coming to the conclusion that he⁠—

She released his hand. “You’re not a human, are you, Cain Lawson?”

No sense in lying. He stared up at her and let the beast glow from his eyes. “No, baby, I’m not.”

Chapter Three

“Miranda, honey, there’s, uh, something you need to know.” Sam Michaels stared at her with a worried, slightly hangdog look on his face that immediately had her shifting uncomfortably in the worn leather chair.

It was just past eight a.m. on Saturday, and she was truly not in the mood to go around and start learning more things that she needed to know. After last night, she’d learned more than enough about the world.

Once Cain had made his confession, and his eyes had started to glow, she’d turned carefully on her heel and walked from his room. Her knees had trembled like crazy, and she’d sworn that she’d tasted sawdust on her tongue.

But maybe that had just been fear.

She’d locked her bedroom door. Then lodged the desk chair under the doorknob. But Cain hadn’t so much as tried to follow her.

And when she’d woken up and her gaze had fallen on that chair, she’d felt a flash of shame. The man had saved her life. He deserved better than for her to run from him and hide.

“Uh, Miranda? You listening to me?”

She shook her head because, no, she had no idea what Sam had just been saying. Cain was in the lobby of the sheriff’s station, pacing like a caged animal, and she wanted to go to him.

And apologize.

So the guy wasn’t human. She wasn’t perfect, either. And⁠—

“Paul Roberts is dead.”

Now she was listening to him. “What? What happened? Did one of the deputies⁠—”

A long, hard sigh. “He died five years ago. Killed in some kind of animal attack.” He leaned forward in his desk chair.

“That’s not possible, he’s—” A vampire. Wait. Vampires were dead. No, undead. Cain had said that.

“Good thing the bastard’s dead, too,” Sam continued, scratching the top of his head. “The guy had a rap sheet a mile long and a serious appetite for hurting women.” His brows beetled. “He liked to cut them.”

She could certainly pick winners.

“I don’t know who that jerk really was last night, but he was not Paul Roberts.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better? Miranda’s feet dug into the worn carpet. “So Paul Roberts, he’s in the system?” The database or whatever the hell the cops and deputies called the computer system that showed all the criminals and their records.

A nod from Sam.

“With a picture?” Miranda pressed.

His hands skated across the desk. “I’ve got a picture right here.”

“I want to see it.”

Sam pursed his lips but opened the file and pushed the photo across his desk.

Miranda looked down and saw the face of the man who’d bitten her the night before. Blue eyes. Long, straight nose. High cheekbones. Chin that was a little weak. Dark hair a bit longer than it was now, but definitely the same man. “Could you, um, could you call Cain in here, please?”