Erik rested his folded arms on the back of the chair. "So, are you in a hurry to go home, or can I persuade you to go dancing at the club?"

"I'd like that." One last night together, she thought glumly, before they said good-bye.

"Are you packed?"

"Sort of. I don't have a suitcase."

"Come on. I've got a couple you can have."

She followed him up the stairs to the bedroom she had been using. Going to the closet, he pulled down a large navy blue suitcase and another, smaller one.

She had expected him to leave, but he stood in the doorway, watching while she packed, putting her clothing into the larger case and her toiletries and make-up in the smaller one.

"I guess you'll be glad to be rid of me," Daisy remarked as she closed the large suitcase. "Glad to have your house all to yourself again."

"I thought I would be, but now...I think I'm going to miss you." Picking up both suitcases, he walked down the hall to the room where he kept his paintings. "Take whichever one you want."

"Oh, I couldn't...I mean, they're so...do you mean it?"

He nodded. "Consider it a peace offering for keeping you here against your will."

"That one," she said, gesturing at the painting of the castle. "It's my favorite."

"Mine, too," he said, smiling. "Go on, take it."

Unable to believe he was actually giving her one of his works of art, Daisy picked up the painting and carried it down the stairs and out of the house.

Outside, Erik stowed her suitcases in the backseat of his car, then opened the trunk so Daisy could place the painting inside. She looked at it a minute, thinking again that she had never seen or owned anything so beautiful.

"Do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Erik asked.

"No, I'm not hungry. Are you?" she asked, then felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Are you offering?" he asked with a good-natured leer.

"No, sorry."

Laughing, he held the door for her, then walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. He was still grinning when he pulled out of the driveway.

It was early and a Monday. The club was practically empty, which suited Daisy just fine. Erik ordered drinks, a margarita for her, the house special for himself.

Daisy stared at his glass when the drinks arrived. "What is that anyway?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I think so."

"It's very expensive Madeira laced with a little blood."

Was he kidding? She hoped so, but there was no humor in his expression. And then he lifted one brow. "Want a taste?"

"No, thank you!"

"Want to dance?"

As had happened once before, the jukebox came on when he took her hand in his and led her onto the empty dance floor. As had happened before, she forgot everything else when he took her into his arms and held her close. She wasn't sure swaying back and forth, their bodies so close you couldn't have put a piece of paper between them, qualified as dancing, but she didn't care. She loved being this close to him. Loved the smell of his cologne, the way his hands dwarfed her own, the sense of power that clung to him, the touch of his lips in her hair. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in his nearness, in the bittersweet lyrics of A Fine Frenzy singing about someone who was an "Almost Lover."

Oh, yes, she had it bad!

Time ceased to exist as they danced. As if in a dream, he whispered in her ear, his words warm and soft, relaxing her completely, so that when she felt the touch of his fangs at her throat, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Erik knew a brief moment of guilt as he closed the tiny wounds in her neck. Had he been less honest, he could have lied to himself, told himself it wasn't his fault. She was beautiful, irresistible, and he was only doing what came naturally. And it was partially true. She was beautiful. And he had done what came naturally because he had no desire to resist.

When the song ended, he willed another to start. The rest of the world drifted away and there was just the two of them, slow dancing to Fleetwood Mac singing "Beautiful Child." Erik smiled inwardly. His Daisy was certainly a beautiful child, so young when compared to the centuries he had lived.

Later, he ordered her another drink, and then they danced again, this time to Fauxliage singing "Let It Go." The lyrics seemed made for the two of them. Did Daisy want him as badly as he wanted her?

They stayed until closing time, and then he drove her home. After carrying her bags to the front door, he went back to retrieve the painting. After propping it beside her luggage, he drew Daisy into his arms.

"So, my little flower," he murmured, "where do we go from here?" He could have forced her to surrender to him, to be his slave in any and every way he demanded, but he didn't want to compel her to care for him. He wanted her affection, freely given.

"What do you mean?" Daisy asked, though she knew exactly what he meant.

"Even though I know it's not a good move for either one of us, I'd like to see you again, get to know you better."

"You're right. It isn't a good idea."

"Is that a no?"

She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. "Why ask for trouble? I know you're attracted to me, and I have to admit, I'm attracted to you, too, but what's the point? There's no future for us. You must know that."

"There could be."

It was tempting. He was tempting, with his silky black hair and smoldering ebony eyes. She felt herself weakening, wanting. Wanting to sit on his lap and feel his arms around her. Wanting to taste his mouth devouring hers, wanting to touch him, to kiss and taste and explore every masculine inch.

"Why don't you give us a chance?" he asked in that soft, honeyed voice that sent shivers of delight down her spine. "What have you got to lose?"

What did she have to lose? Her life, for starters.

"I'm not a young vampire," Erik said quietly. "I won't hurt you. The scent of your blood doesn't enflame my senses beyond control. I won't take anything you don't want to give." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "I think I'm in love with you."

Of all the things he might have said, that was the last thing Daisy had expected to hear. "But...that's impossible. I mean, we hardly know each other." She stared up into his eyes. "Haven't you forgotten something? I'm the Blood Thief..."

"And I'm a vampire," he said.

And that said it all.

"So you see," Daisy said, blinking back the sting of tears. "There's just no way it will work."

"You're sure?"

She gazed up at him, mute. She couldn't be in love with a vampire. In her family, it simply wasn't done. She was an O'Donnell. They hunted vampires. Her father and her brother Alex destroyed vampires for a living. Her younger brother, Brandon, didn't have the stomach for killing, so he earned his living the same way she did, by selling the blood of the Undead at two hundred bucks a pop. And since you only needed a very small amount for the desired high, a pint or two of vampire blood went a very long way.

"Daisy?"

He was waiting for her answer, but she had no answer to give as cold logic warred with her growing desire.

She jumped when the front door opened behind her.

"Hey, Daisy Mae, it's about time you got home."

"Alex!" Daisy stared at her brother in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, can't a guy come to see his little sister once in a while?" Alex's gaze settled on Erik, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Alex, this is Erik Delacourt. Erik, this is my older brother, Alex."

The two men eyed each other warily for a moment; then, at a look from Daisy, Alex stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Erik nodded as he shook the other man's hand.

Daisy glanced from Erik to her brother and back again, her heart beating wildly as vampire and vampire hunter continued to size each other up. Inviting Erik inside was the polite thing to do, but all things considered, it really didn't seem like a good idea.

Erik took the dilemma out of her hands. "I'll say good night, Daisy. I'm sure you and your brother have a lot of catching up to do." He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you around."

Speechless, she watched him get into his car and drive away.

"So, who's that guy?" Alex asked.

"Just a friend."

"Uh-huh."

"Bring my bags in, will you?" Without waiting for an answer, she went out onto the porch and picked up her painting, and then swept past him.

Returning to the living room, Daisy propped the painting on the mantel. She admired it for several moments, hardly able to believe it was really hers, and then turned to face her brother.

Alex dropped her bags beside the sofa, then jerked his chin toward the picture. "Where'd you get that?"

"From Erik. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I guess it's all right, if you like that kind of thing."

"I do. Erik painted it."

"You're kidding. He doesn't look like an artist to me."

"Well, he is. What are you really doing here?"

Alex shrugged as he glanced around the room. "Dad was worried about you."

Daisy groaned softly. She never should have called home after destroying Saul.

"Mom, too," Alex said. "She wants you to come home--"

"And meet Mr. Right. Yes, I know."

Alex dropped onto the sofa and picked up the remote. "Well, I don't know about that, but I know she wants you to move back home. Permanently. She thinks it's too dangerous for you to be out here alone. And after seeing that guy...that artist you're hanging out with, I think she's right."

Sitting on the sofa, Daisy crossed her arms over her chest and counted to ten. "What's wrong with him?"