He wasn’t supposed to be some kind of blood-drinking psychotic!

He was grunting now and making little moaning sounds, and she was pretty certain that she was going to pass out. At any moment.

Then the weirdo would probably kill her.

Not the way she’d been hoping her night would end.

I’m not going out like this. Her neck was on fire. Her body quivered. But her Grandma Belle hadn’t raised a quitter.

Miranda managed to lift her knee and ram it as hard as she could into the jerk’s balls.

He stiffened against her, lifted those terrible teeth for just a moment—

And Miranda twisted like a snake, managed to break free of him, and then lunged for the door.

Just a few more feet . . .

If she could get outside, she might be able to get help. Or maybe her new neighbor, the only neighbor she had in the boondocks, would be able to help her and—

Paul grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back. She shrieked as he pulled her, reaching up with her hands and clawing his wrist.

“You’re going to be so damned sorry, you bi—” His snarled words ended in a gasp when her front door was literally kicked open.

Miranda blinked, stunned and damn grateful to see her neighbor of five days, Cain Lawson, standing in the doorway. Over six feet three inches of pissed-off male. Tousled coal-black hair. Handsome face etched into lines of fury.

He glanced first at her, then at the psycho still holding onto her hair with a death grip. Miranda was on her knees, scratching and clawing, and she didn’t think it was necessary, but she still screamed, “Help me!”

Then the really, truly unthinkable happened. Cain’s lips pulled back from his perfect white teeth and damned if those teeth didn’t look far too long and way too sharp for a human’s.

“Get the hell away from her, vampire!”

Vampire? No, that wasn’t right. Vampires weren’t real and—

And blood was still dripping from the wounds in her neck.

She chilled as goosebumps rose on her flesh.

Date. From. Hell.

Paul laughed, a high, grating sound, and his hold tightened.

She’d be lucky to come out of this situation with her life, not to mention her hair.

“You get the hell out of here, before I decide to kill you, too,” Paul snarled.

Then his hands were on her throat. Only his fingernails felt too sharp. Like knives. Miranda stopped breathing, afraid that if she so much as moved, he’d slit her throat right open.

So much for trying to date one of the good guys.

If she made it through this mess, she’d go back to finding the normal asshole biker guys who were nice and safe. The ones who occasionally drove up from Miami looking for a fresh start, only to get burned out by the smalltown life less than a month later.

Cain lifted his hands and his nails started to grow. Lengthened. Sharpened.

Miranda blinked. No way was this happening.

“Come and try,vampire,” Cain’s voice rumbled, dark and dangerous. “Come and try.” A muscle flexed along the strong width of Cain’s square jaw. His face was a tense mask, and his high cheekbones gave him a harsh, predatory appearance. His golden eyes were blazing. So bright. So fierce. So . . .

Glowing?

He growled, then leaped across the room in one fast move. A snap sounded right next to her ear and when Paul screamed, she realized the sharp noise had been the cracking of his wrist.

Then she was free. Cain jerked her forward, tossed her toward the couch, and the air she’d been holding escaped in a whoosh.

Miranda scrambled around the cushions, turned back just in time to see the men crash to the floor in a heap of limbs and muscles. Snarls and growls escaped them, making the two seem more like animals fighting than humans.

She put her hand to her neck, wincing at the sting and the sticky feel of her blood.

She really hoped that Cain kicked Paul’s ass.

Fumbling, she managed to grab the phone on the end table beside her. Her fingers trembled as she dialed 911 and kept a wary eye on the men.

“911 operator. What’s your emergency?”

Paul kicked Cain off him, sending the taller man hurling back about five feet.

“I—I was attacked.” Bitten by a freak. Cain lunged for Paul. Swiped out with his hand and caught the other man along the face. Deep bloody grooves—Jesus, but what looked like claw marks—immediately appeared on Paul’s previously perfect right cheek.

Paul’s teeth snapped together. “Shifter.”

What?

They were getting too close to her. Miranda jumped over the couch, keeping her fingers clenched around the phone.

The emergency operator was asking frantic questions in her ear, but Miranda couldn’t break her focus from the two vicious fighters long enough to answer her.

They were circling each other now. Cain bared his teeth. “She’s not for you, asshole.”

Paul laughed at that.

“101 Lakeview Street,” Miranda finally whispered to the operator and let the phone drop from her hand.

Paul was just a few feet away. The men were both pretty much ignoring her now, and if Paul kept his advance going, he’d be in front of her in seconds.

“Do you think she’s going to be yours?” Paul asked, voice that of the dull, annoying gentleman she’d had dinner with that evening. “Women like her don’t go for animals.”

Cain flexed his hands. “Yeah, well, they don’t tend to go for sadistic parasites, either.”

Miranda had no clue what they were talking about. Parasites? Animals? What? Keeping her gaze darting between her would-be rescuer and the biter, she began to edge to the left. Toward the very, very big crystal vase that Grandma Belle, rest her sweet soul, had given her when she’d first moved into the house five years ago.