Run from the Twilight

Author:Maggie Shayne
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

He didn't want to feel the way he did about Mary. He didn't want this power between them to be anything more than the undeniable awareness that always came between her kind and his. She was one of what vampires called The Chosen—a human with the belladonna antigen. They were linked by blood, the two of them. The overwhelming urge to protect her was to be expected.

And yet he couldn't deny that there was more than that. He was compelled to walk close to her, stand close to her, sit beside her, touch her at every opportunity, smell her.

Taste her...

No. Not that. He wouldn't do that. She must never know what he was. The memory of Sally's reaction to that knowledge was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

They walked to the small store down the beach, and he bought two bags of groceries. It was a difficult task, since it had been a long time since he'd had to shop for food, and the items offered today were foreign in comparison to what had filled the shelves in his own time.

He had to keep nudging her to make choices, and eventually she got over any feeling that he ought to be the one to choose and just did it. His relief must have shown on his face as the cashier rang them out.

"Not much of a shopper, are you?"

He shrugged. "I usually east out."

She shook her head. "You don't know what you're missing."

He did know, but to be honest, he didn't miss it al that much. The appeal of food paled in comparison to the lust for blood. Of course, he couldn't tell her that. Or that while food might taste good going down, that was all it did. Blood came alive inside him, sparkling and sizzling through his veins like living energy. Electricity times a thousand. Life. It was life. Even the stale aged blood he used as his sustenance, stolen from blood banks or hospitals, held the spark of that power. He was hungry. It had been days since he'd fed. Yet he wanted to be near her, to protect her his every waking moment. He couldn't take tie away to scavenge for a meal.

He took the tow paper grocery bags from the counter and, carrying one in each arm, left the store. Mary caught up quickly and took one of the bags from him. "You don't need to wait on me, you know."

"I wasn't." No. He was trying to keep her from seeing the glow of bloodlust in his eyes. He fought his hunger, wrestled it into submission, buried it and focused only on her.

She walked along the path beside him, warm and alive and beautiful. Her hair was long and loose tonight. The sea wind blew it around her face. In front of the store was a small parking area, and a road beyond it. Behind it, there was a narrow, well-worn path that wound back to the beach.

"What is it you do?" she asked at length.

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