Page 8 of Wicked Ways

Hadn’t he? She rubbed her brow, suddenly confused.

“You don’t have to thank me.” A deep rumble of sound, almost like a growl.

Cain had the deepest, roughest voice she’d ever heard. One that made her toes curl and her thighs quiver.

Down, girl.

Her hormones were going crazy, and her mind was turning into mush. Had to be the excitement of the night.

“I did what any man would have done.”

She shook her head at that response. “Uh, no.” Miranda could still see the image of him and Paul locked in brutal combat. “I don’t know many guys who would have ripped open a door to save me.”

He caught her hand. Brought her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then you don’t know the right kind of men.”

Now her knees were shaking. And was he staring at her with hunger in his golden eyes?

He kissed her hand again, and for a second, she felt the warm brush of his tongue against her fingers. Miranda tensed. “I—I should be going to bed.” Alone. Because while her hormones might be jumping on the adrenaline party, she wasn’t about to go falling into bed with her neighbor. Even if he had quite probably saved her life.

And even if he was sexy as all hell.

And even if just the sight of him did have her whole body tightening with arousal.

She pulled her hand away from Cain’s warm grasp and stepped toward the guest bedroom he’d shown her earlier.

“If that’s what you want…” Cain’s words were soft.

For an instant, she imagined him following her into that dark room and stripping.

Miranda swallowed and felt the faint sting along her throat. “Thank you, Cain. Really.” Her fingers wrapped around the doorframe.

He gave a faint nod.

Miranda turned away from him, stepping over the threshold.

“Just got one quick question for you, baby,” he murmured, and the floor squeaked beneath his feet.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she waited.

His dark brows pulled down low over his eyes. “Why in the hell were you out with a vampire?”

Her jaw dropped open. Again with the vampire talk.

“Those bastards are sick. You can’t trust them, not one bit. Parasites. And they all fucking smell like the grave.”

Her head shook, although she wasn’t sure if she was denying his words or her own fears. “Paul isn’t a-a vampire.” There had to be another explanation for what had happened. Because vampires weren’t real. They were on TV. In the movies. In books. But they weren’t real.

Some sicko with a blood fetish had attacked her. Simple as that. No vampire. No monster. No⁠—

“Bullshit. That jerkoff was undead, and if I hadn’t gotten to you, he would have drained you dry in less than five minutes.”

Not a good image.

“Y-you’re wrong!”

“Oh, he would have. I’ve seen the bodies his kind leave behind.”

He was just trying to scare her.