I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the words out loud. Not until he answered me.

“You’re an expert on vampires now, are you?” he said.

I considered not rising, but lying sprawled in front of him definitely put me at a disadvantage, so I sat up, ignoring the shriek of my stiff muscles. I glared at him. “No, I’m not. I don’t believe in them, and if you and your friends are into that kind of scene, then you can count me out. I want to go home.”

He was looking at me with detached interest. “‘Kind of scene’?” he echoed.

There was no blood on his mouth now. Maybe I’d imagined it. My brain still didn’t seem be holding two thoughts together. “I’m not a complete idiot,” I said in a cranky voice. “I know there’s an entire subculture of people who like to pretend they’re vampires. They file their teeth to points, they hang out in Goth clubs, they drink blood, they dress in Edwardian clothes . . .” My voice trailed off. Black jeans and a worn black denim shirt didn’t equal Edwardian finery and we both knew it, though I was willing to bet he’d look pretty damned gorgeous in a white puffy shirt. Considering that he looked pretty damned gorgeous already.

“I don’t see a Goth club anywhere,” he said. “No one around here would pretend to be a vampire.”

“So what was that I walked in on a few minutes ago?”

“Allie?” Sarah came up behind him before he could answer, almost as tall, with another of the men just behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong,” I said, feeling cranky despite the fact that I liked Sarah. “I saw him.”

“Saw him what?”

I looked at her narrow wrists: blue-veined, delicate, and unmarred. I pulled my knees up close to my body, hugging them. “Who are you people?” I demanded in a frustrated moan.

“Come back to the house, Sarah,” the other man said impatiently. “This is Raziel’s mess—it’s up to him to deal with it.” There was an oddly proprietary tone to his voice.

“In a moment,” Sarah said, kneeling next to me and putting her hand on my arm. “I don’t want you to be afraid, child. No one is going to hurt you.”

I wasn’t as sure as she was, either about Raziel or about the other man. He was as tall as Raziel, with jet-black hair, cold blue eyes, and a merciless expression on his face. “I want to go home,” I said again, feeling like a fretful, stubborn child.

The other man swore. “Raziel, do something about this. That, or let me clean up the mess you’ve made.”

“Give her a minute, Azazel,” Sarah said over her shoulder. “She’s shocked and frightened, and no wonder, with the two of you stomping around, being mysterious. If Raziel won’t give her some simple answers, then I will.”

“Woman,” Azazel said in an icy voice, “I want you upstairs in bed.”

“Husband,” Sarah replied sweetly, “I’ll be there when I’m damned well ready.”

Well, that was definitely weird. Azazel had to be in his early to mid-thirties; Sarah was likely in her fifties and probably older. It was hardly surprising—

Sarah was a beautiful woman—but most of the men I knew liked nubile young chicklets. At the ripe old age of thirty, I’d already been dumped once for someone younger and more pliant.

“She’s going to come inside,” Raziel said, making it clear there were no options. That’s what he thought. My eyes narrowed, looking up at him.

“And just where is she going?” the other man demanded.

“My rooms,” Raziel said. “I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

“She’s certainly not coming with us,” Azazel snapped.

Sarah rose, a graceful, fluid motion that made me desperately envious. If I got back home, I was definitely going to start going to yoga. When, not if. I wasn’t giving them any choice in the matter. I wanted my life back.

“Go with Raziel, child,” she said. “He’s not going to hurt you. In fact, he’s been looking out for you. When he wasn’t dying of fire poisoning,” she added with a mischievous glance at him. “Go with him, and he’ll answer any questions you have.”

“The hell I will,” Raziel said. “I’ll take her to my rooms and leave her there until I figure out—”

“You’ll do what Sarah says,” Azazel said, his soft voice chilling.

Raziel shot the other man a disgruntled look. And then he crossed the sand to me, holding out his hand.

I stared at it, not moving. Now was not the time to notice that he had strong, beautiful hands. Or that everything about him was beautiful, almost supernaturally so. I didn’t like pretty men, damn it. Though God knows I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen anyone quite as gorgeous as he was.

“Don’t make me carry you,” he said in a warning voice.

Azazel and Sarah were already heading into the house, his arm around her waist. For a moment I considered scrambling to my feet and running after them; but reasonable or not, Azazel terrified me even more than this inexplicable man.

I needed to get up, not loll there like a Victorian heroine. The only problem was that my knees felt like spaghetti. I’m as tough as the next woman, tougher maybe, but I’d been through a hell of a lot in the last . . . whatever. There was a limit to how much I could handle. I tried to rise, but he ended up putting his hands on my arms and hauling me up anyway. He released me quickly enough, and started back toward the odd house, clearly expecting me to follow like a dutiful third-world bride.

The hell with that. I looked around me for some kind of escape and came up with a flat zero, unless I wanted to pull a Virginia Woolf and walk into the sea. There was no place else for me to go. The tide was coming in, and beyond the house all was misty darkness and forest. Besides, I was finally going to get some answers to my questions, wasn’t I?

I just managed to catch up with him. His long legs ate up the distance, but after a shaky start I managed a brisk trot. “You needn’t be so grumpy,” I said, trying not to huff and puff. “It’s your fault I’m here.”

“In case you don’t remember, I was unconscious when they brought me back.”

“That’s up to interpretation,” I said. “I can’t argue, since I seem to have huge gaps in my memory. What do you think they should have done, then? Left me in the forest? With those wild animals out there in the dark?”

He frowned. How could a man have a beautiful frown? “No,” he said. “They shouldn’t have left you.”

“And what the hell were we doing there in the first place? What in God’s name is happening to me?” I hated the plaintive note in my voice, but honestly I couldn’t help it. I could be all Strong Modern Woman most of the time, but right now I was tired, cranky, and totally defeated.