Mira sat on the bed with her back pressed against the concrete wall. Her right leg was bent and the elbow of her left arm was resting on her knee as she held her head in her hand. The nightwalker looked worn, as if time were finally starting to catch up with her.

“Did you see Gabriel?” she asked in a low voice. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” I confirmed, causing her shoulders to slump even more in relief. “It doesn’t look like you took much.”

“I didn’t think I had, but after what happened with Tristan, I’m just not sure anymore…” she said, her voice trailing off.

“How do you feel?”

“Exhausted.” She sighed before flashing a faint, wry grin that seemed to disappear before it could fully form on her lips.

“Then go to sleep,” I said, as I reached over and pulled the door closed, then paused with my hand still on the doorknob. “What about Tristan?”

“He’s got the next room,” she replied, pushing off the bed and getting to her feet. “This used to be one big room, but last month I had it divided so that he could have his own room. It has the same security system as this one.” Standing on the left side of the door, Mira opened the covering of a small gray box on the wall and typed in an eight-digit code in the keypad. A second later, a metal door slid out of the wall and covered the wood door. Mira smiled at me when I gave a little jump. “The entire room is concrete and steel. Nothing to burn.” She frowned. “You’re stuck in here now. No getting out until I’m awake again.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“There’s no bathroom in here. No food.”

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “It’s December. The days are shorter now. You’ll be awake again soon enough.”

Mira smirked over her shoulder as she returned to the bed. Placing her back against the wall, she stared at me as I leaned against the metal door that guarded the entrance into her secret lair. Her eyelids drifted shut after a few seconds, but she quickly jerked her head, her eyes popping open. I chuckled at her.

“Stop fighting it.”

“Did you bring any weapons?” she asked.

“I’m always armed,” I replied with a smile. Even when I didn’t have a blade or a gun on me, I still had the ability to boil blood. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.”

A small sigh escaped Mira as she slid down the wall and laid her head against the pillow. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then I felt it. It was as if she were no longer in the room with me. I could no longer sense her. It was still a few hours until sunrise, but exhaustion and Gabriel’s blood had finally overcome the strength of Ryan’s blood. She was deep in the sleep of the nightwalkers.

Pushing away from the wall, I walked over to the bed. Mira was dressed in a plain, white T-shirt and a pair of black shorts. Her dark red hair was spilled over the white pillow-cases like a river of fresh blood. I bent over and picked up her legs, while at the same time, I pulled down the cover on the bed. I placed the blanket over the nightwalker, knowing that she would never feel it. Staring down at her, I realized that for the first time since I had met her, Mira finally looked like she was at peace. I just wished it would last.

There are dreams that jump from one garish image to the next, blurring together memory and fantasy into one heart-wrenching nightmare. And then there are some that are just a mesh of sensations. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. This one started with a pair of lips. There was no image, no smiling face; just a pair of soft, moist lips kissing my neck. My muscles tensed. I couldn’t identify the temptress beyond these gentle lips moving up my neck with amazing care. These full lips paused at my earlobe, parting to draw that sensitive piece of flesh inside where it was caressed by the tip of her tongue.

I deeply exhaled, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. My whole body relaxed, muscles unwinding from my shoulders to my calves. At the same time, a weight settled around me, almost hesitantly coming to rest in my lap. She was light like a butterfly and just as skittish. This creature with a gentle kiss and springtime scent would flee if I moved, so I hardly breathed as she dragged her lips up to my jaw.

She paused as she reached my lips, one small hand coming to rest against my chest. The first touch was light and faint, a soft brush of flesh as if testing me. Then again with more pressure, more demanding. She was slow, trying to memorize the contours of my lips before asking for more.

She shifted slightly, pressing closer, her knees coming to hug my hips a little tighter while the hand on my chest slid up to my left shoulder. Her other hand curled around my right biceps, a hint of nails biting flesh. Her lips brushed mine, parting so that the tip of her tongue ran along the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth, welcoming the invasion. This time there was nothing hesitant. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting me.

I kissed her back, wanting to drown in the pleasure she was giving me. I pulled away, capturing her bottom lip in my teeth, tugging lightly. She came back, the kiss growing hotter, rougher. She tasted like nothing I could recall; warm and sweet. I was growing hard. I wanted more, but I was still afraid to move. Any wrong move and she might disappear.

She pressed her body more into mine. Her hands gripped my arm and shoulder a little tighter as she kissed me. A soft sound escaped her, a sweet mix of a sigh and a moan. Dragging her lips back across my jaw, she whispered, “Touch me, Danaus,” in a husky voice. I knew that voice. I knew it, but I couldn’t conjure up the matching face. It didn’t matter. I lifted my hands and came in contact with her bare skin. I felt a shudder run through her and she sighed so softly I wouldn’t have heard it if her lips hadn’t been by my ear.

I moved my hands higher, over her thighs to her hips. Her skin felt like warm silk, so soft that her satin panties actually felt rough to the touch. I slid my fingers beneath the fabric, cupping her backside and pressing her tighter against my erection. She moaned my name, her lips brushing against my cheek. This time I recognized the voice. It was Mira, but it was wrong. This was a warm, vibrant woman. Mira…wasn’t. I clung to that thought as I slid my hands up her waist. My thumbs rested on her ribs, just at the edge of her bra. I turned my head, recapturing her lips in a rough kiss that she eagerly returned. My tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her, memorizing the contours of her mouth.

A sharp pain intruded on the moment, causing me to break off the kiss. I tasted blood. And in that horrible second I realized I wasn’t dreaming. My eyes snapped open and in the dim light I found Mira watching me with hooded eyes and soft smile. Knowing now that I had been kissing Mira didn’t cure my desire. A part of me had known from the first instant. It was that same part of me that wanted her and had wanted her since the first time I had seen her. She was too human, too beautiful and enticing: most of the time it was easy to forget that she was a vampire. She was just flamboyant, outlandish Mira with her biting sarcasm and fierce determination. But then her dark otherness would bleed through, obliterating all signs of humanity.

But for now, she was Mira—half naked and once again straddling my lap. I kept my eyes locked on her face, resisting the urge to take in the rest of her.

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” she purred. The hand on my shoulder slid up to my neck. Her thumb ran along the line of my jaw in a gentle caress. She didn’t move beyond that, seeming content to just sit and touch me, returning to the task of memorizing my features. I knew hers. I had burned her lines into my brain each time I watched her sleep. I knew the slope of her nose and the stubborn turn to her chin. I knew the soft, thick texture of her hair, and that she always smelled of lilacs.