Page 36 of Twilight Longings

“I don’t know,” Kincaid said. “I guess it depends on whether healing Kadie also healed the town.”

“And the state,” Micah added. “I don’t think any of us should visit Morgan Creek until we know for sure that it’s safe. And there’s only one way to find out.”

“What do you mean?” Sofia asked. And then she frowned. “You aren’t suggesting one of us should go to Morgan Creek and see what happens?”

Micah shrugged. “Can you think of another way?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. “This is something for Saintcrow to decide,” Kincaid remarked. “As the owner of the town and the oldest among us, it has to be his decision.” He wasn’t surprised when no one objected.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kadie stared at the man pacing the floor beside the bed. Dressed all in black from his shirt to his boots, he was tall and broad-shouldered, his hips narrow, with dusky skin and captivating ebony eyes. His black hair fell past his shoulders. The thin white scar on his left cheek started at the corner of his eye, continued down his cheek and neck, and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. In spite of the scar, he was a remarkably handsome man, with an air of confidence and power that was almost tangible. He was undeniably sexy. But he was also as scary as hell. She had no idea who he was or why he was there.

She glanced around the room, certain she had never seen it before. Or him. He had introduced himself as Rylan Saintcrow, a name she didn’t recognize. He had patiently answered all of her questions while remaining cagey about who he was, exactly, or what part he had played in her life. According to him, her name was Kadie Andrews and they knew each other quite well. She wondered how well. Supposedly, she was a freelance photographer and had previously lived in Morro Bay, California, with her parents and her younger sister, Kathy.

“What happened to me?” she asked. “Why can’t I remember anything?”

“You came down with some kind of a rare virus,” Saintcrow said. “No one knows for sure what caused it or where it came from.”

“Why am I here instead of in a hospital?”

“They couldn’t do anything for you there. No one knew of any treatment that would help.” The only thing that had kept her alive was the blood, human and vampire, that he had given her.

“Where are we?”

“New Orleans.”

“I thought you said I lived in California,” she remarked, frowning. “What are we doing here? Whose house is this?”

“It belongs to a friend of mine. It’s a long story, Kadie. Why don’t you rest a while?”

“I’m not tired.” She blushed when her stomach growled. She wasn’t tired, but she was starving as if she hadn’t eaten in years.

Saintcrow swore softly. She was human now. He would have to remember that. “I’ll be right back.” On his way out of the room, he closed the door behind him, then went into the living room where Izabela waited.

The witch looked at him, one brow raised. “Well?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t remember a thing. And she’s hungry. Do you have something she can wear? I can’t take her to a restaurant in a nightgown, and I can’t take her back to Morgan Creek.” Doing so might lead to too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

Izabela regarded him through narrowed eyes. “A restaurant?”

“Yeah. She’s human again.”

The witch stared at him. “Amazing,” she murmured.

“She needs clothes,” Saintcrow reminded her. “Can you help me or not?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Izabela said, with a sly grin. A wave of her hand conjured a navy-blue skirt and a long-sleeved white sweater, as well as the necessary undergarments, and a pair of white sandals.

“Thanks,” Saintcrow said. “I suppose this is going to cost me another pint of blood.”

“The clothes are on the house,” she said, with an airy wave of her hand. “But, speaking of blood …” She reached into the pocket of her gaudy green-and-gold skirt and withdrew a large bottle.

With a sigh of resignation, Saintcrow bit into his wrist. And then he smiled. To have Kadie back again, he would gladly give the witch all the blood she wanted.

Thirty minutes later, Kadie stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Why couldn’t she remember who she was, or what had happened. She wouldn’t even know her name if Mr. Saintcrow hadn’t told her. And then she frowned. If doctors couldn’t cure her, who had? Or had the illness simply run its course and taken her memories with it?

Her thoughts turned to the man, Saintcrow, with those piercing dark eyes and broad shoulders. A massive chest. Long, long legs. Large hands. Who was he, really?

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