I Want You To Want Me. Kathy Love

they’d led. Maybe the deaths had been, if not natural, at least not abnormal.

      He crossed his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, feeling every bit his two hundred-plus years. Sometimes he thought it would be almost lovely to have a natural death. Hell, he’d thought that a lot during his first years of vampirism.

      Just then the still night air was filled with a brief shriek as loud and skin-crawling as what he imagined Julianne’s cry to her death had been. Vittorio shot upright, all muscles tense, all senses alert, any feelings of weariness gone.

      But it wasn’t Julianne.

      Erika!

      Chapter 6

      The horrible cry seemed to come from her apartment, but the acoustics of the enclosed courtyard made it hard to be certain. And now all was quiet again. Not even a hint of sound from Bourbon Street reached his ears.

      Vittorio rose slowly, listening intently. He took careful steps across the flagstones, edging closer to the apartments.

      Just as he reached the first step leading up to the glassed-in porch, another scream slashed through the silence. Vittorio leapt up the stairs and shoved open the old door, the hinges squeaking in protest, although the sound hardly registered as it was drowned out by another cry. Keening, broken and absolutely terrified.

      Now there was no doubt from where the screams came. They echoed out of Erika’s apartment like the haunted shrieks of a banshee.

      A corresponding fear welled up inside him. What was happening to her? He tried the handle of her door. The knob refused to budge. He absently noted that it hadn’t been tampered with, but he knew there were creatures out there who didn’t need to break a window or a lock to enter a building.

      Another horror-filled screech sliced through the darkness. Vittorio didn’t hesitate. He concentrated, then he faded, becoming no more tangible than the shadows surrounding him.

      He rematerialized on the other side of the locked door, trying to get his bearings. He’d not fed for days—not an unusual thing for him. He could go long periods without stealing the human life force that he needed to survive. But the lack of sustenance made using his preternatural abilities more difficult. And more than a little disorienting.

      He swayed slightly, as he tried to focus on something, anything, in the dark room to ground him. But before he could find anything, a shadow darted past his feet, pure black and low to the ground. He stumbled backward, more surprised than unnerved.

      The pitch-black shadow skittered around the sofa, then leapt up and perched on the back of a large chair. Gold eyes peered through the dark, only to disappear, then slowly reappear, regarding Vittorio with an almost disdainful boredom.

      It only took Vittorio a few moments to realize he was being stared down by a cat. He released a pent-up breath, amazed he had been so easily startled by the creature.

      Another scream filled the air, reminding him of why he was really so rattled. The cry was close, deafening in its proximity.

      Vittorio stepped farther into the room, focusing all his attention on locating Erika—and whatever was terrifying her so.

      He spotted her on the sofa, her form barely visible. Her shout tapered down to small whimpers, the frightened sound no less disturbing.

      “Erika?” he said quietly, rounding the sofa, moving guardedly, watching for any other movement aside from the cat. But as he got closer, he realized Erika was huddled alone among the jumbled sofa cushions, her body curled into itself. Looking small and helpless.

      He reached over to the end table and switched on the lamp. Soft yellow light pushed away some of the darkness. He leaned over her, seeing her eyes were wide open, staring unfocused, straight ahead.

      “Erika?”

      “Go away,” she moaned, pulling her knees tighter to her chest.

      He straightened, unsure what to do. He supposed he was the last person she would want to help her. But the paleness of her face, and the clear horror in her stormy gray eyes made it impossible for him to leave.

      “Are you hurt?”

      She didn’t respond, her glassy stare still focused somewhere past him.

      “Erika?” He pressed a hesitant hand to her shoulder. She jerked under the gentle touch.

      “Oh God,” she wailed. “Please don’t hurt me!”

      He immediately dropped his hand from her shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.”

      “You are! You are already!”

      He frowned, not understanding. Surely his light touch couldn’t have caused her pain. And he didn’t intend to threaten her, but he stepped back anyway, giving her space.

      “Erika, please tell me what’s going—”

      Before he could even finish his question, another scream tore from her throat. Then another until Vittorio couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her, pulling her against him until she was on his lap, her rigid body cradled against him.

      “Erika?” He held her, smoothing his hand down the delicate curve of her spine, making soothing nonsensical sounds, willing her to calm.

      Finally she did relax, her head nestling under his chin, her fingers lax and curled against his chest.

      He held her, unsure what to do. Finally, he shifted her slightly, trying to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even.

      Had she just been dreaming?

      He held her for a while longer, allowing his own body to relax along with hers. She hadn’t even been awake when she’d been gaping in terror at some dreamed villain.

      He held her for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of her in his arms, her slight weight, the sultry scent of cinnamon clinging to her flawless, almost translucent skin. Her soft rear end situated perfectly against him.

      He fought back a groan as his body reacted, much against his will. That was when he sensed her energy flowing around him, spinning like a fragrant, enticing cocoon, encompassing them both. He’d been able to ignore it when he’d been shaken by her screams. Now he couldn’t. She smelled and felt too good.

      He breathed in deeply, relishing the satisfying sensation of her delightful energy deep inside him. Then he froze, abruptly halting himself. God, what was he doing? He never took his energy like this—one on one. When he did feed, he went into crowds, taking from many. Keeping it impersonal, unemotional.

      Quickly, yet carefully, he edged Erika away from him, arranging her on the cushions and sliding out from underneath her. But as he stood and started toward the door, Erika stirred.

      “Vittorio,” she murmured as she blinked up to catch him at the end of the sofa.

      Then she immediately sat upright, her hand going to her chest, her eyes wide as she realized he was real. Not a part of another vivid dream.

      “Vittorio?” Her voice was raspy from sleep. The sound brushed over his skin as powerful and enticing as her smell, as her energy. His nerve-endings tingled.

      He didn’t respond, his body in overdrive, his mind blank.

      “What are you doing here?”

      “I—I heard you screaming.”

      She frowned, clearly confused, then remembrance dawned on her face. “Oh, yes, I had the worst dream. Someone was trying to kill me.”

      He nodded, having deduced the nightmare had been something along those lines. “Yes.”

      He didn’t know what else to say. He just knew he had to get out of there.

      She brushed back her dark hair from her face and released a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

      Yes, she definitely disturbed him, but not