Oh, damn. Now her knees were shaking. And was he staring at her with hunger in those 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 . . .” The words were soft.

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

Miranda swallowed, 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 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 damn 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 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.

And it’s working. “Vampires don’t exist.” Said with more certainty than she currently felt. The wounds on her neck seemed to burn.

Cain stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “Baby, just what do you think happened tonight?”

“I was attacked.” Her shoulders straightened. “By someone very, very sick.” She didn’t want to think about the rest just then. Didn’t want to think about the white flash of Cain’s teeth or that terrible moment when she could have sworn that his nails lengthened into claws.

Because thatcouldn’t have happened. Could. Not. She’d been stressed. Things had been moving fast. She’d been confused and—

And she didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Miranda knew she was scared.

Maybe staying with Cain hadn’t been the best idea.

Sanity had decided to raise its annoying head too late.

Cain growled. Stepped toward her. “That’s the way you’re gonna play it, huh?”

“I’m not playing anything.” The words sounded false. Miranda had the sudden, stark feeling that she was standing on a precipice. And if she moved, if she stepped forward and saw what waited over that deadly edge, she’d fall and her life would change. Forever.

Cain’s eyes were on her. Seeing far too much. “There’s something I need to show you.” Then he grabbed her hands and all but jerked her back into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” She tried to dig in her heels but the man was strong. Crazy strong. Miranda remembered the almost effortless way he’d tossed Paul across the room. Uh-oh. Okay, so she hadn’t imagined that part of the night.

He shoved open a white door. Stepped inside a bathroom. He freed her hands and hit the light switch, then he pushed her in front of the mirror. Cain caught her hair and pulled it back, exposing the savaged column of her throat. “Take a long, hard look.”

She did. Scratches. Mottled skin.

And two tiny puncture wounds.

Her hands flattened against the sink and she rocked forward, straining to get a better view. She’d expected to see the imprint of a man’s teeth. This was—

Oh, God, what the hell was this?

Two puncture wounds. Deep. Spaced about an inch and a half apart.

Just like a vampire bite in the movies.

He’d had fangs. Two-inch-long fangs.

She closed her eyes a moment. Saw that damn precipice again. Then felt her body being shoved right over the edge.

“Still think vampires don’t exist?” Cain asked, his breath feathering over her right ear. Her eyes opened and met his in the mirror.

“They aren’t supposed to be real,” she whispered and felt a desperate pounding in her temples. Would this night never end? Cain’s scent—man, slightly woodsy—wrapped around her. For a moment, she was tempted to lean back against him. To let her body melt into his.

Then he spoke. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a news flash for you. Vampires aren’t the only creatures running around on this earth that ‘aren’t supposed to be real.’”

“I—I can’t deal with this.” She needed to think. A vampire. A real blood-sucking, creature-of-the-night vampire. And she’d picked him off the Internet for a date.