That would make things infinitely easier.

“Cain . . .” A whisper, the sound hesitant and . . . afraid?

He sat up slowly, drawing in more of her scent with a deep breath.

“I have to . . .” A step closer. “I have to know . . .” More slow movements across the floor.

The bedsheets were around his hips. Hiding his arousal, for the moment.

Cain reached over, flipped on the bedside light. For her benefit, not his.

She blinked, hesitated a moment at the flood of light. Then she inched toward him, stopping at the side of the bed. Her wide eyes gazed down at him. “When you first came into my house, you—you looked different.”

Hell. He’d known this would come, sooner or later. Cain had just been hoping for much, much later because when she learned the full truth about him, his fantasies would die a quick death.

An animal. Women like her don’t go for animals. The vampire had been right about that one.

“I didn’t imagine it, did I?” Not as much hesitation now, more determination. “Your eyes—they glowed. Your teeth were sharper.” She reached for his hand, fumbled a bit, then caught his fingers. “And you—you had claws.”

The shock had worn off. While he’d been lusting, she’d obviously been in there replaying the whole night and coming to the conclusion that he—

She released his hand. “You’re not a human, are you, Cain Lawson?”

No sense in lying. He stared up at her and let the beast glow from his eyes. “No, baby, I’m not.”

Three

“Miranda, honey, there’s, uh, something you need to know.” Sam Michaels stared at her with a worried, slightly hangdog look on his face that immediately had her shifting uncomfortably in the worn leather chair.

It was just past eight a.m. on Saturday, and she was truly not in the mood to go around and start learning more things that she needed to know. After last night, she’d learned more than enough about the world.

Once Cain had made his confession, and his eyes had started to glow, for God’s sake, she’d turned carefully on her heel and walked from his room. Her knees had trembled like crazy and she’d sworn that she’d tasted sawdust on her tongue.

But maybe that had just been fear.

She’d locked her bedroom door. Then lodged the desk chair under the doorknob.

Cain hadn’t so much as tried to follow her.

And when she’d woken up and her gaze had fallen on that chair, she’d felt a flash of shame.

The man had saved her life. He deserved better than for her to run from him and hide.

“Uh, Miranda? You listening to me?”

She shook her head because, no, she had no idea what Sam had just been muttering about. Cain was in the lobby of the sheriff’s station, pacing like a caged animal, andshe wanted to go to him.

And apologize.

So the guy wasn’t human. She wasn’t perfect, either. And—

“Paul Roberts is dead.”

Now she was listening to him. “What? What happened? Did one of the deputies—”

A long, hard sigh. “He died five years ago. Killed in some kind of animal attack.” He leaned forward in his desk chair.

“That’s not possible, he’s—” A vampire. Wait. Vampires were dead. No, undead. Cain had said that. He’d said—

“Good thing the bastard’s dead, too,” Sam continued, scratching the top of his head. “The guy had a rap sheet a mile long and a serious appetite for hurting women.” His brows beetled. “He liked to cut ’em.”

She could certainly pick winners.

“I don’t know who that guy really was last night, but he was not Paul Roberts.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better? Miranda’s feet dug into the worn carpet. “So Paul Roberts, he’s in the system?” The database, whatever the hell the cops and deputies called the computer link that showed all the criminals and their records.

A nod.

“With a picture?” She pressed.

His hands skated across the desk. “I’ve got a picture right here.”

“I want to see it.”

Sam pursed his lips but opened the file and pushed the photo across his desk.

Miranda looked down and saw the face of the man who’d bitten her the night before. Blue eyes. Long, straight nose. High cheekbones. Chin that was a little weak. Dark hair a bit longer than it was now, but—

Definitely the same man. “Could you, um, could you call Cain in here, please?”

“Ah, sure.” He pressed a button on the phone and asked the clerk out front to show Cain inside.

They were sitting in the sheriff’s office. Sheriff McMillan was out of town. He’d gone fishing in Biloxi, and since Sam was the undersheriff, the second-highest officer in Melvin County, he was holding down the fort.

Less than a minute later, Cain marched inside. Miranda felt the lancing heat of his stare. She looked up and met his look directly. “Paul Roberts is dead.”

He didn’t look particularly surprised.

“According to Sam, he’s been in the grave the past five years.”

Again, no surprise. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelash.

Sam said, “Miranda’s told me she met this guy on the Internet—”

Now one black eyebrow did lift.

“—she never saw his ID, so it’s safe to say the guy gave her a false name. And the SUV we towed from her place, well, it had been stolen two days before, so we got no help on ID from that end.”