What was he doing to her? If only he would stop. If only he would never stop. Her eyelids fluttered down as she gave herself into his keeping. She was dying. The thought hovered at the edge of her consciousness, but it no longer seemed important.

Aware that he had almost taken too much, Erik drew back. Daisy lay limp in his embrace, her eyes closed, a faint smile on her lips.

Cursing himself for his lack of restraint, he ran his tongue over the small wounds in her neck, sealing them with his saliva. Gazing down at her, he shook his head. What was he to do with her? He couldn't keep her there indefinitely, he thought with no small degree of regret, and then he grunted softly. He was Erik, a vampire without equal. If he wanted to keep her in his house for a week or a year, who was going to stop him?

Whistling softly, he tucked her into bed, then left the house. She would need food and drink and a change of clothes when she woke.

Daisy snuggled under the covers, reluctant to wake. She had been having a most unusual dream, one in which she had been a princess being kept prisoner in a castle by a fierce dragon...

Bolting upright, she glanced around the room. She wasn't home. She wasn't in her own bed. She was being kept a prisoner, not in a castle, but a house. Not by a dragon, but by a monster just the same.

She lifted a hand to her neck. He had seduced her with kisses last night, and then taken her blood. And she had reveled in it. How disgusting was that? He must have hypnotized her or worked some sort of evil magic on her, to make her think she had enjoyed it. How could anyone enjoy being a vampire's dinner? Oh, Lord, was that why he was keeping her here? To feed on?

Her fingertips lingered on her throat as vivid images painted themselves across her mind, images of Erik's eyes as he bent over her, the erotic seduction of his unholy kisses, the feel of his arms around her, the husky timbre of his voice, the taste of his lips, his tongue...

Heat pooled in the pit of her belly. Monster he might be, but he knew how to arouse a woman. And she hated him for it.

Rising, she went into the bathroom to rinse her mouth, only then realizing that there were no dishes or glasses in the house.

And no food, she thought as her stomach growled, reminding her that all she'd had to eat since breakfast the day before was a few bites of salad.

She could call and order something, only Erik had her cell phone. Besides, there was no way to get past the wards on the house. She needed a bath, only she didn't relish the idea of bathing and then putting on her dirty underwear, or, worse yet, having Erik enter the bathroom while she was in the tub.

Returning to the bedroom, she noticed several packages piled on the dresser. They hadn't been there the night before.

Frowning, she poked into the largest one, a soft sigh of surprise rising in her throat when she pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a matching velour jacket, several pairs of socks, and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. The other bags yielded three pairs of jeans and six T-shirts in assorted colors, a pair of sandals, a comb and brush, a blow-dryer, hair spray, toothpaste, a pink toothbrush. And several sets of underwear in rainbow colors. How had he known her size? She shuddered to think!

After taking a quick shower, she pulled on the sweats and went downstairs, where another surprise awaited her. The kitchen, once barren, had been fully stocked with food. Boxes, cans, and dishes were neatly stacked in the cupboards. Milk, juice, eggs, cheese, and butter filled the refrigerator, along with a number of fresh fruits and vegetables. She spied a set of stainless steel cookware on the floor near the stove, along with a state-of-the-art coffeemaker.

Standing there, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, she was touched that he had been thoughtful enough to provide for her needs. On the other hand, she was filled with apprehension, since it was obvious he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon. Of course, since he intended to feed and clothe her, she supposed that meant he didn't intend to drink her dry, at least not right away.

On that happy note, she decided to have breakfast and worry about her future after she'd had her morning coffee.

Consciousness returned with the setting of the sun. Sitting up, Erik opened his senses, nearly gagging as the scent of cooked meat stung his nostrils. He had no one to blame but himself. He had gone grocery shopping for the woman the night before. Not knowing what she liked and not being particularly familiar with the food of the day, he had bought a little of everything.

Erik shook his head. The odors coming from the kitchen were almost enough to convince him to let her go, but the memory of holding her in his arms, of sampling her sweet lips and her sweeter blood, quickly dispelled that notion. His mouth watered at the thought of holding her again, tasting her again.

Rising, he pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. Late last night, he had brought some of his clothing down to his lair, partly for convenience's sake now that he had a houseguest, and partly to keep her from slicing his entire wardrobe to ribbons should Hurricane Daisy go on the rampage again.

Enthused at the thought of spending the evening with her, Erik unlocked the door to his lair and padded silently up the stairs.

Daisy was eating dinner in the living room when she felt a peculiar tingling along her nape. Startled, she glanced around the room. One minute she was alone, the next Erik was standing in the doorway.

"You!" She pressed a hand to her heart, startled by the realization that his presence had caused that odd tingling sensation. Frowning, she lifted a hand to her neck. She had tasted his blood; he had taken hers. Was that why she was suddenly so in tune to his presence?

He jerked his chin toward the plate in her lap. "Your dinner is getting cold."

"What? Oh." Trapped by his gaze, she had completely forgotten her meal.

She couldn't stop watching him as he moved into the room. Though he was dressed in ordinary jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, there was nothing ordinary about Erik Delacourt. Not the way he looked, not the way he moved. She was aware of him in ways she never had been before. She frowned. Was that another side effect of his drinking from her? Or her drinking from him? She didn't understand why she hadn't been repulsed by the taste of his blood. But one thing she knew for sure, it was never going to happen again.

She glanced at her dinner, but seemed to have lost her appetite.

Taking a seat at the other end of the sofa, he regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Something wrong?"

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

His gaze slid over her from head to heel. "As long as it pleases me."

"Well, it doesn't please me," she retorted. "I want to go home. Now!"

He nodded, then blew out a sigh. "Very well."

"Just like that?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

"More or less."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can stay here, or I can wipe my memory and this place from your mind and let you go."

She liked the idea of going home. Surprisingly, she didn't like the idea of forgetting him. "Are you afraid of me?"

Soft laughter filled the room. "Of you? No."

"Then why do you want to wipe your memory from my mind?"

"Because you're the Blood Thief. Because you probably know other hunters who take more than blood. Because I haven't lived this long by trusting mortals. Because..."

Daisy held up her hand. "Enough. I get your drift."

"So, what will it be?"

"Isn't there a third choice?"

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She saw the answer in the depths of his unblinking black eyes.

"You'd kill me? Just because I know where you live?"

Again, he didn't answer. He simply looked at her, waiting for her decision.

"But I...you..." She blew out a sigh of exasperation. How did one argue with a vampire, anyway?

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Go on."

Refusing to let him know she was afraid, determined not to back down, Daisy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I don't like any of those options."

"No?"

She glared at him, annoyed by the amusement evident in his tone. "No."

Erik stifled the urge to laugh. He knew she was scared. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, smell the fear on her skin. It teased his hunger even as it raised his admiration for her courage. "What do you suggest?"

"That I promise not to tell anyone where you live, and you let me go home, and we get to know each other better before there's any bloodshed on either side."

"And you expect me to take your word that you won't come hunting me again, or worse, send someone to take my head?"

"Are you suggesting that I can't be trusted?" she exclaimed.

"I think that's been proved."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the Blood Thief. You took Tina's blood. You came here to steal mine. Now that you know where I live, what's to stop you from trying again?"

"How do you know about that?" she blurted, then bit down on her lower lip. Stupid move, Daisy, she thought angrily. Now he knows you're guilty.

"It's hard to keep a secret in my world."

"You know her?"

"Yes, but that's not the problem."

"No?"

"No. The problem is the vampire who sired her," Erik said quietly. "And he's looking for you."

Chapter 12

Daisy stared at Erik, her eyes wide. She didn't try to mask her fear this time. "I don't believe you."

Erik shrugged. "I may have exaggerated, but Rhys..."

"Rhys!" Daisy exclaimed in horror. "Rhys Costain?"

"You know him?"

"I know of him." Fear shot through Daisy. The hunters had an online network. They shared information such as the names and physical descriptions of vampires, their approximate age, their last known resting places. Rhys Costain was known throughout the vampire-hunting world.

And he was after her.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked. "You look a little pale."