Theron Ambrose pulled his sleek, black Ferrari to the side of the curb when he found her. Night’s shadows were deep, the only light coming from the golden glow of the street lamp. She was sobbing mournfully on the front stoop of an old brick apartment building in this city of North Hollywood, California.

He switched off the purring engine, rubbing his hands briskly together in both eagerness and anticipation. This was one of those huddled-masses he was always so pleased to encounter. They never gave him any trouble. Were always willing to go along peacefully. He was their salvation. Their light at the end of a dark, dismal tunnel of grief. He had the power, and he used it to his advantage.

Some would say he was evil. Others, a saint. But he was neither one nor the other. He was merely a man. A unique man with a unique hunger. A hunger that needed to be sated nightly.

With long, silent strides, wearing darkness as his cloak, he went to her. Theron stared down at flaxen hair and a slight figure clothed in aged jeans and a crimson blouse. No more than twenty, he guessed this one to be. At such a young age what demons could possibly haunt her? What emotional trauma had her so utterly grievous? A lost lover? The death of a cherished one?

With a sad shake of his head, he knew it didn’t matter. Not to him. Whatever her sorrows, he would ease them all. He would give her the strength to carry on. In return, she would give him something far more precious. A small sacrifice that would allow him to rise with the next moon and start the hunt all over again.

Long, fine fingers reached out to caress a tear-wet cheek. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m here to help you.” His voice projected sanctity, the promise of refuge.

Startled to find that she wasn’t alone, the girl’s head jerked up. She opened her mouth to say something, but Theron placed a soft palm over her lips. “Words aren’t necessary,” he whispered. “Come.” He took her by the hand. The woman rose to her feet. “I will take away your pain.” He passed a hand over her face. Her eyes closed briefly. When they opened again they were glassy and distant.

Together they strolled to his waiting car in the warm spring air. When they were both settled in he started the engine, pulled away from the curb, and drove down the lonely street. Ultimate destination: His hilltop lair.

* * * *

Theron fed until the raging hunger in him was appeased. He felt drowsy with satisfaction as he lifted his lips from the warm, pulsing throat of his prey. The woman lay there on his bed, partially undressed and in the induced trance-like state he had put her under.

He gazed down at her full breasts and lowered his face, rubbing his cheek over one soft mound. A small groan spilled from his lungs as he took a nipple into his mouth, savoring the feeling as it grew rigid under his tongue’s manipulations. He suckled the rosy peak for a good while before switching to the other. He slid his hand along her ribcage and cupped the fullness of her free breast, his fingers kneading the plump flesh.

Theron felt his erection pressing hard against his slacks, throbbing with each quick heartbeat, luring him to take advantage of her pliant body. Instead, he became very still, closed his eyes and inhaled a long, shaky breath that filled his lungs and cleared his head. Exhaling slowly, he looked up at the ceiling as he took control of his emotions once again.

Passing a gentle hand over her eyes, Theron commanded her to sleep then rolled off her weakened body.

She was drained temporarily. A few hours of deep sleep would replenish her lost strength. Later he would drive her back down to the city, bid her to forget him, to forget her sorrows, whisper a joyless farewell and return home alone ... just as he always did.

Unfortunately, his lifestyle didn’t afford the luxury of a life mate. His laugh was low and wry. He’d most likely outlive her. Choosing a solitary existence was his decision. One he was most comfortable with. Never would he give up the life he had claimed so long ago for feeble things such as love, passion, and a few decades of life.

In one swift movement he was off the bed, readjusting his burgundy silk shirt. He was satiated, yet slightly edgy. This was his second feeding from the same body. Tomorrow he would have to start the hunt all over again.

A rueful smile slid across his lips as he viewed the sleeping form on his bed, covering her so that temptation was out of view. Brokenhearted women were obscenely easy to take.

This particular part of California provided plenty of the melancholy souls to perpetuate his immortal existence here on Earth.

A thought and a glance caused the electric wall sconces by the bedside to flicker and die, enveloping the room in a shroud of blackness. With new vigor in his step he crossed the floor, alive with the particular strength that came with the sacrament. The finest, most pure narcotic of all had rejuvenated him: Blood.

Sending a brief image through his mind of the door closing behind him, he stepped across the threshold. Once on the other side, the lock clicked into place without so much as a touch from his hand.

Theron’s senses were still full of the woman. Her scent, the feel of her supple body beneath his, her soft moans of complete surrender as he bit into her neck, his teeth puncturing the delicate flesh. Running a tongue over his lips, he savored the remaining traces of her flavor. The essence of life. His life.

Making his way across the large foyer, he went to his study intending to catch up on the stock market before having to take the woman back to her apartment in the city. Theron felt the new blood coursing through him with each step he took, feeling infinitely youthful and not even close to his true age.

He closed his eyes for a moment in bliss. Being a vampire certainly had its rewards. Living forever. Infinite power. A whole other plane of existence above the humans of the world.

His expression immediately turned grim. A life such as his had drawbacks, he reminded himself as he entered the plush room. Having to hunt every other night wasn’t always as easy as he wished it to be. The women were sometimes difficult to locate, even with his keen sixth sense. Not all victims were as willing as the one he had now, though he always left them in much better condition than when he’d found them--missing a pint or so of blood, but that was easily replenished.

Sighing, he turned on the table lamp and picked up the Wall Street Journal, sat in his favorite overstuffed chair, and hoped that tomorrow’s search wouldn’t prove to be too taxing.

* * * *

Theron awoke the next evening feeling both tense and eager. The night of the hunt always brought to him such mixed emotions.

Throwing back the covers, exposing his nude body to the cool night air, he rose from the bed. His bare feet settled into deep pile carpet, slapping softly on ivory tile as he went straight to the bathroom for a shower. With a slight thought sent in the direction of the light, the room was instantly illuminated.

A brief flick of his fingers had the shower on in the next moment, steam rising as he stepped in under the heated water.

Letting the warmth seep into his bones, water sluicing over his taut body, Theron wondered what woman his instincts would lead him to this night. Would she be blonde and voluptuous? Thin and brunette? Would her eyes be blue or brown? Or would she be a redhead with green eyes? His pulse jumped at the visions his mind conjured up.

Theron did have a preference for redheads. Not a carrot-top with freckles, but hair a deep-amber color. Her skin would be fair and smooth as alabaster. He continued to let his mind spin the well-worn fantasy as he soaped, shampooed, and rinsed. Her eyes, they would be emerald windows to her soul, and in those eyes he would see her love and acceptance for him and what he was. His dick stirred to life and his heart beat too fast in his chest.

He reached down and grasped his cock, which was hard as steel. With long, smooth strokes he let out a deep sigh of ecstasy as his blood pumped quickly through his veins, pleasure coursing through every cell of his body. Leaning his forehead against the cool tile, he closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath, running his thumb over the sensitive tip. Lord how he craved this woman. Craved her to the very depths of his soul.

No trance would be placed on her, for she would give of herself willingly. And Theron would take all she offered. That and more.

He envisioned her lying on his bed amongst a cloud of pillows. Her smile wicked and welcoming as she beckoned him to love her. Lurid scenes passed before his mind’s eye and he pumped his hand faster, raising his face to the cascading water above. With his other hand he cupped his balls squeezing in a rhythm that matched his stroking hand.

He imagined his dream woman opening her silken thighs to him, baring herself, perfectly pink and oh, so wet. In his mind he slipped between her legs, his eyes taking in every inch of her before his lips and tongue followed suit. He inhaled deeply, glorying in her scent, licking her, bringing her to climax as no man had done before.

Just as she peaked, crying out his name, he raised himself up and over her body, sliding his cock deep inside. Oh, but it felt so good being gripped by her. Feeling the warmth of her pussy, her slickness, as he drove in and out with unrestrained passion. He bit into her shoulder and she clung to him tightly, whispering words of lust in his ear that urged him on.

Theron moaned as he approached sweet release. His movements became faster, his breathing ragged, and with one final squeeze he came with a gasp, spilling the contents of his desire ... and no recipient to share it with.

In the next heartbeat Theron cursed, wrenching the ancient yearning from his mind and body. He picked up the bar of soap and threw it against the wall of the shower and swore blackly, watching the beige oval as it bounced off, hit the tub, and slid past his feet, traveling down to the drain to sit there. His erection quickly faded, though the yearning lingered.

Never could he meet up with this woman, for she was his nemesis. The woman who would bring about his very demise. The woman who would cause him to relinquish his immortality with her sensual words and drugging kisses. The woman who would have him believing in the charade called love.

The woman he had avoided for nearly three hundred years.

Theron bunched his hands into fists and shut his eyes tightly once more. He would continue to avoid her until this world ceased to exist.

Pushing those thoughts away with a chafing sigh, he turned off the water manually. Stepping onto the cream-colored bath rug, he grabbed a towel and briskly dried himself off. Hunger gnawed at his belly, bringing him back to reality and his mission. There was no room in his life for such frivolities as love and sex, only hunger, power, and eternal life.

“Never forget that, Ambrose,” he warned his reflection that stared harshly back at him from the foggy mirror.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later Theron stood on the cliff in front of his Hollywood home, dressed to kill. He smiled at the thought. Kill wasn’t the exact word, but he was most definitely dressed to attract the opposite sex. He wore a black torso-hugging knit shirt that stretched tight over his biceps. Theron worked out vigorously each and every day. A small laugh passed his lips. Women did seem to like a bit of muscle on a man. His pressed slacks were the same rich black as his shirt. Equally dark leather loafers graced his feet. His ebony hair was brushed back from his forehead, accentuating his midnight eyes. Theron made the most of his looks and took pride in his appearance.

Where would fate lead him tonight? His eyes narrowed, taking in the lighted city below. He breathed in the fresh spring air and the scent of all living things. A cool breeze caressed his face.

He lifted his head a bit and turned slightly to the east. He inhaled, bringing the night air deep into his lungs. He raised an eyebrow, gaze lancing a distant point. “Ah, there you are, my sweet.” His heart pumped fast and heavy. Succor was only minutes away.

* * * *

Theron depressed the button to his left, the window sliding down to let in the sounds and smells of Hollywood Boulevard. The scent of garlic and peanut oil drifted over him as he passed a Chinese restaurant. He did so like this area. He had not once had an empty hunt since moving out here nearly five decades ago. If there was ever a place that attracted tourists and beckoned would-be starlets, it was this city.

Keeping his eagle-like vision attuned to the people bustling about even at this late hour, Theron recalled how thinly populated the United States had been over two hundred years ago. He’d quickly gone back to roaming Europe and Asia, not venturing into the U.S. again until the early nineteen hundreds.

With his next breath, instincts told him to take a right at the upcoming stoplight. While he waited for it to turn green, a heavily made-up prostitute rapped on the passenger side window.

“Hey, baby,” she spoke through the glass in a voice Theron imagined she thought was seductive. “I can take you around the world for a hundred bucks.”

Theron let the window slide down slightly. “No thank you,” he replied with a plastic smile. “I prefer to take my trips solo.”

“Come on.” She produced a very pouty bottom lip covered with a thick layer of gloss. “I’ll make it worth every penny.”

He shook his head and took off once the light had changed, leaving the hooker yelling a few choice expletives after him. Theron only smirked, knowing that his expensive car often attracted such vermin.

He could never afford the price he might have to pay, though money was not the problem. His bank account was quite impressive, his wallet heavily padded. His special talent of clairvoyance made playing the stock market most lucrative. No, the price he was talking about was threat of disease. Not once had he touched tainted blood, he refused to start taking such risks now.

Two blocks later the woman in the microscopic skirt and ample bosom was completely forgotten as Theron frowned. He had lost the trail completely and was becoming edgy. For some odd reason his senses were off kilter this evening. The woman should have been incredibly easy to locate, yet he found himself driving another three blocks before intuition told him to take a sharp right.

Turning the wheel quickly, the headlights bounced off a brick wall ahead of him and to each side. Theron cursed under his breath as he discovered he had turned down an alley. Stepping on the brake, he stopped and tried to clear his mind.

“Where are you?” he said aloud to the emptiness around him, his flat palm beating an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel.

Several overly filled garbage cans lined one of the walls to his left. His vision was captured by the sight of a cat standing on the edge of one of the beat-up containers, rummaging through its contents, searching for any morsel of food to appease its hunger. Theron knew how the poor feline felt as his own stomach twisted tight.

Shifting the car in reverse, he quickly started backing up, his yearning to feed clawing at him with a vengeance. In the next instant he heard a sickening thud as he struck something.

“Damn!” He rested his head against the leather-covered steering wheel, letting out an irritated breath through clenched teeth. “What now?” This night was certainly not going very well.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror, hoping to see whatever he had hit get to its feet and walk away. All was quiet and dark.

Theron climbed out of his vehicle to check the damages. He rounded the back of his car, his blood running icy as his eyes took in the heap of blue cloth laying so still on the asphalt. He swore again, loathing the fact his hunt was put on hold. He was already feeling the strains of withdrawal as his body felt weaker and his nerves were nearing their breaking point.

Soon he had his emotions under control. Though it was most unfortunate this had happened, he would take full responsibility. He would call for an ambulance, or take the wounded soul to the hospital himself, and pay for any and all medical bills. After all, he wasn’t a cold, unfeeling monster ... just a hungry vampire.

With the toe of his left shoe he nudged the body lying there at his feet. “Hello?”

As he fully expected, no answer came.

Theron looked around and saw that the street he was on was deserted. Thankfully, no one had seen this. He didn’t want to be detained longer by a police inquisition.

He sighed heavily and crouched down next to the victim. “Hello?” he called out again. “Can you hear me?” Gently, he checked for any broken limbs. Finding none, he gave a slight push, causing the person to roll onto their back. Dim streetlight shined down, making the face visible to his concerned gaze. It was a woman, no more than thirty, he guessed.

Theron bent his head down to her chest, trying to detect a heartbeat. Yes, she was alive. Her heartbeat was faint, her breathing shallow, but she was alive. Relief swept over him. He’d never killed in his life and was most grateful his record was still spotless on that account.

Along with this relief, Theron also detected changes in his body as he felt her soft breasts beneath his cheek and inhaled her delicate, feminine fragrance. His dick stirred to life and he instantly admonished himself for such physical reactions. Not only was this woman not the one he was looking for, but she was also comatose!

He derailed his odd response to her by checking the pockets of her jeans since she carried no purse. He found nothing, except for the fact that he was growing hard at her nearness. He counseled himself with the very real reason that he had not fed yet and wasn’t feeling like himself.

Concentrating, Theron tried probing her mind, seeking any bits of information as to who she was. His effort was fruitless. He detected no personal identity. The only thing he had encountered in the dark recess was a deep well of sadness, of hopelessness, depression, and a sense of wandering.

Theron blinked the feeling away as he looked down at her with a frown between his brows. He refused to probe further. Her problems were none of his concern. So, she was a mystery. As was his strange reaction to her.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, shall we?” He debated on calling an ambulance, but didn’t want to be held up any longer than he already had been. If he took her there himself it would be that much quicker. As soon as that was accomplished he would continue on with his previous chore.

With very little effort, Theron lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and headed toward his vehicle. Her head lolled against him, quickly heating his chest where her cheek lay so softly. A small moan seeped though her lips; Theron’s steps faltered as the sound skimmed along his nerve endings. Yes, the sooner he got this woman to the hospital, the better.

Using a bit more energy than he could afford at the moment, he had the back door open with only a thought. Theron leaned over, ready to lay her across the back seat, when she let out another low moan. He glanced down just as her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of emerald eyes. The glimpse was brief, less than a second before they closed again, but it had been enough.

Theron stood up very straight and very still. He had found her. Not a woman to satisfy his appetite for a few nights, but the woman of his dreams, his heated fantasies, his nightmares.

A ripple of terror raced up his spine and settled in his brain. His first taste of real fear in nearly three centuries.

Theron didn’t know how long he stood there within the yawning mouth of that dark, dank alley carrying his very future in his arms. If he left her here she would surely die. Years of medical training in the Orient told him she had a concussion, perhaps other physical damages, to what extent he wasn‘t certain of yet.

Common sense told him to drive her to the nearest hospital and be done with her. Instincts told him to leave her here before it was too late. Before he ended up throwing away all he had fought to hold onto for so long. But a haunting voice in his empty soul called out with an alien need. A need only this beautiful stranger could fill. A need that, if satisfied, would ultimately lead to his downfall.

His decision was quick to come and not at all surprising. He would take her to his home. He could help her more quickly than any coven of doctors could. And, mostly, he would be given the opportunity to see why exactly this woman haunted him so, refusing to let him live in peace.

* * * *

Once Theron arrived home, he was angrier with himself than he could ever remember being. What the hell was he doing bringing her to his home?

Theron gave a soft snort as he shut the motor off in the driveway and killed the headlights. He knew damn well what he was doing, even if he was too big a coward to admit it aloud. He was taunting fate.

Exiting the car, he opened the back door, and reached in to retrieve the woman. He made his way up the walkway, lights along either side of the path coming on instantly with each heavy footstep. The front door flew open ten-feet before Theron ever approached it. He had more energy than usual.

His smile was caustic. Normally he would be much weaker than he was now, especially since he was far behind on his feeding schedule.

As he walked through the front door, every light in the house ignited. He heard the wooden barrier shut behind him with a mighty bang. A leaden feeling settled within his soul as he realized that any normalcy he’d ever had in his life was about to take a swift deviation from this night forward.

At first Theron thought to put the woman in the room next to his, but decided against it at once, taking her to one of the upstairs bedrooms. He would feel much more at ease having her convalesce in an upstairs room. The knowledge took the edge off him only slightly.

A small smile stole across his lips as he walked through the doorway and set the woman on the queen-sized bed, atop the carnation-pink comforter. He had done all of the decorating in his home, and thought that once she became conscious she would most probably appreciate this room. The various pastel shades, white wicker furniture and variety of plants brought about an instant aura of peace and well being.

Although at this very moment those were the last emotions coursing through him.

With measured movements, Theron went to the hand-carved armoire and retrieved a deep-green nightgown in the silkiest of satin. Walking rigidly back over to the bed, he debated whether he should manually dress the woman or simply turn his back and let his powers do the work. He threw the gown on the bed, looking down at his hands, which were shaking so badly, and turned his back on his unconscious houseguest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a few deep breaths and whispered a calming mantra. Once he turned around again she was dressed in the garment and beneath the crisp, cotton sheets.

Theron sighed heavily as he saw the mane of auburn hair splaying over the pale pillowcase. How many times had he fantasized about burying his face in that hair and breathing in her scent? Of wrapping the silken strands around his fist while he drove into her backside with unbridled fury? “Too many to count,” he murmured, pushing some hair from her forehead, wincing as he saw the large, purple lump above her right eyebrow. No wonder she was unconscious. She would have been better off if it had bled. It would have relieved some of the pressure.

He went downstairs to his bathroom and took one of the amber glass bottles from the medicine cabinet, grabbed a few cotton balls, then was at her side again a moment later. As he stared down at her with a perpetual frown on his face, he tried probing her mind once more. For a brief second sensuality bobbed to the surface. He inhaled a sharp breath at the feeling but just as quickly it was erased, replaced with one of misery, of fear, of intense depression as her mind swam in and out of darkness. This woman wanted to die. And, heaven help him, the way he felt at the moment, he wished she would.

Theron shook his head free of the fatal thought. He could not, would not, let her die. Probably for the fact that he had fought for his own life for so long, he could not sit back and let another perish.

Opening the cap on the bottle, he poured a bit of the strong-smelling liquid onto the cotton. Gently, he stroked on the medicine that would have her contusion healing much more quickly than was normal.

She moaned softly, turning her head as the cool liquid touched her flesh. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’m here to help you.”

Yes, he would tend to her injuries since he was culpable in having harmed her in the first place. He would heal her. And while she was here he would use every moment to delve into her mind and soul. He would unlock the mystery of why she possessed the fate of his future--a mortal woman of all things!

He wondered again, why her? What set her apart from all of the other women in this wide world for all of these generations?

He ruminated over her personality. What would she be like? Sensual and provocative? Sassy and flirtatious? Innocent and naïve?

Theron gave a harsh laugh that bore no amusement. Of course she would be all of these women. All of them and more. A complete woman that would have him feeling like a complete man for the very first time in his long, long life. A total woman that would tempt him into doing what no other woman had tempted him to do before ... making love ... falling in love.

He set the bottle and cotton on the oak nightstand. Pulling over the rocker, he settled himself into it, his intense gaze never leaving the woman. His questions would be answered very soon. His only hope was that he would be coming out of this thing unscathed.

Theron waited at her side until the hunger within him was unbearable. Reluctantly, he left the room and went to his own to freshen up. He still had a few hours before daylight. He had to make the most of them.

* * * *

A quarter of an hour later he stood at the edge of the cliff once more, trying to get the female in his home out of his system. In just a matter of hours, even in her unconscious state, she had imprinted herself upon his senses. His body still burned where he had held her. Her womanly scent still filled his nostrils like wisps of the headiest incense. The sound of her voice, those insignificant moans, still resonated within him like a sacred chant. Thankfully he hadn’t tasted her, if so, he’d surely be lost.

As these wild thoughts spun around his mind, the wind picked up and shifted slightly. Theron’s mind was captured by a vision deep in the city below that he couldn’t physically see, but was there nonetheless. A seductive smile curved his lips and his houseguest was momentarily forgotten as his senses encountered another woman. Not a mystery woman, not his fate, but the woman who would satisfy his appetite tonight. Perhaps tomorrow as well.

With quickness in his step and not a single look over his shoulder, Theron got back in his car and headed for Hollywood Boulevard once again.

* * * *

When Theron returned, only moments before dawn, his hunger had been physically satisfied, yet irritation burned in him. He flung the car door open with rage.

“I should have brought the woman here, dammit!” Kept her for the two feedings, as was the norm. Yet something prevented him from doing so.

No, he thought with disgust at his sudden mental weakness, it was someone who prevented him from doing so.

He had resisted bringing the other female home with him. For some reason it just didn’t seem right to have two women under his roof at the same time. Why? He didn’t know or understand the foreign feeling, but it was there inside of him. So he had resorted to locating the mournful soul, pulling into a secluded area of a nearby park, and had taken her there.

Theron snorted in loathing as he slammed the door in back of him, shooting a bolt of energy at the metal object. What he had done tonight, taking the woman in his car, was no better than what a sneaky, lust-filled youth would do.

“And why?” He interrogated himself as he made his angry, confused way up the brick path, jerking the front door open before he ever reached it. Lights stuttered on and off in the house as his pent-up energy ran rampant, seeking an outlet.

Was tonight’s odd behavior due to the fact that a perfect stranger lay in his upstairs bedroom? A stranger with whom he felt an immediate linkage when her green eyes had fluttered open for that brief second in time?

Yes, he confessed.

He stalked through the door, closing it behind him with a loud bang.

Usually after a feeding he’d feel quite serene and energized. Tonight, however, he was tenser than he could ever remember being. And it was all her doing.

On the way to his room the staircase caught his eye. If he followed, it would lead him to her.

He bypassed the steps, going straight to the workout room, intending to sweat away some of his frustration at being in this predicament. One that he’d put himself in, he thought bitterly. But just as he crossed the threshold--his sights set on thirty minutes or so on the rowing machine--he stopped. Bracing his hand against the doorframe, eyes closed, head thrown back in self-reproach, he blew out a surrendering breath.

It wasn’t her fault he was in such befuddled straits. He was positive that she had no idea what she represented to him: Failure, ruin, perhaps his very death.

She was badly injured because of him. He had no right to simply leave her unattended so he might avoid facing her. She needed him.

Turning on his heel, he placed an unsteady hand on the glossy wood banister and made his way to the room she occupied. Though she was in a physically impaired state due to his careless actions, he already showed signs of mental wreckage because of her presence.

When he entered the room the lamp immediately flickered to bright life. He had only left her alone for a few hours, but what he saw made his heart clench with guilt. She lay on the floor amidst tangled sheets, incoherent, yet weeping softly and mumbling unintelligibly.

The satin gown had twisted up around her waist, revealing her softly rounded buttocks to his heated gaze. Try as he might, he couldn’t turn his head away. He scowled down at her, a part of him wanting to wrap her up tighter than a mummy. Yet another wishing to devour every inch of her with his lips and tongue, to spread her thighs and taste her until he was satisfied, to bury every inch of himself between her luscious ass cheeks and explode deep inside of her.

Another sight caught his attention. There on her back he saw the beginning of a bruise the size of his forearm.

He grimaced as he crouched down and prodded the area. It was hot and swollen. Instincts told him that she had obtained spinal damage along with the concussion. Damn! Though nothing permanent, it did mean she would be here longer than he had at first anticipated. With that knowledge he closed his eyes in remorse, a deep sigh filling the air around him.

When he opened them again he saw her groping around, searching for assistance. Her legs remained motionless. Theron forced himself into the role of medical practitioner and pressed on her thigh muscles, her calves, her feet. There was no reflexive movement at all.

His expression turned grim as he tried to predict how badly she was injured, while thoughts of the effect she would have on him and his existence pushed him to the point of insanity.

For now, he shoved the dread away, adjusted the gown, and lifted her in his arms. Her eyes flew open, wide yet unseeing, pupils dilated. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, whimpering against his chest, frightened. The poor fool, he thought. The only entity she should be frightened of was the very being she was cleaving so despondently to.

His jaw clenched tightly as did his groin. He desperately wanted to pry her off him, but she seemed so afraid. Laying aside his trepidation and lust, he held her for awhile, taking the opportunity to enter her mind.

He was there with her, in the front seat of a car, riding along with three other people at night. She was drowsy. A blond man approximately her age sat beside her. He appeared to have had far too much to drink. Two older people, a man and a woman, sat in the back chatting about the day they had spent at a friend’s home.

Bright lights came directly toward them; a truck had swerved onto the wrong side of the street. Theron detected that the driver had fallen asleep. There was a chorus of screams. The woman he held in his arms had opened her eyes in the next nanosecond. His own head jerked back at the vision of the impact, feeling as if he was physically there.

The next instant he was with her in a hospital, her head bandaged and she was crying, asking the doctor standing near her bedside what had happened to her parents and fiancé.

“I’m sorry, Miss Nolan--Leah,” the older man corrected, aiming for a more personal tone. “They didn’t make it,” was his solemn reply.

“But, they’re all I have.” Her words were spoken on a heart-wrenching sob.

“I’m sorry,” came the feeble answer once again. “You were the only one wearing a seat belt.” The doctor turned, looking uncomfortable about delivering such grievous news, and hurriedly left the room.

“It was all my fault,” she whispered, staring blankly at the drab, pink door, her tears falling faster.

Theron had to blink several times to bring himself back to the present. When he did, he too shed a tear for her. Never had he felt such utter desolation from a human being in all of his life. Such utter grief. Such feelings of misery and solitude.

The melancholy women he encountered on his bi-nightly searches were all suffering from broken hearts, not shattered lives.

He held her, Leah Nolan, closer to his chest, trying to absorb some of her turmoil, knowing that he could never do such a thing as erase the all-consuming pain and guilt he had just witnessed. She had lost everyone who mattered in her life, she believed it was her fault, and these were the feelings that left her lonely, empty and wandering.

He possessed hypnotic powers, yes. Powers that could make one forget even their own name, but they weren’t strong enough to make one forget such despair.

He possessed the knowledge to mend a thousand fractured bones, but had no idea where to begin in the area of this woman’s fractured soul.

“Ah, Miss Nolan,” he whispered against the top of her head, staring off across the room. “What brought you to me? What unseen force had you step behind my car this evening?” He breathed in the scent of lilies and breathed out a shuddering sigh of trepidation. Her arms loosened from around his neck and her head rolled backward. She was unconscious once more.

Laying her back on the bed, Theron stared down at the woman, his body trembling. “What am I going to do with you?” he questioned softly.

Covering her back up, he darkened the room and left her sleeping. Taking the steps two at a time, he went to the workout room, shed his shirt and Italian loafers then sat down on the rowing machine. Gripping the handles tightly, he began the powerful, rhythmic movements, hoping that sweat and hard exercise would erase the barrage of emotions Miss Nolan’s presence pummeled him with.

Lust, fear, curiosity, rage; all filled his body to overflowing.

He had always been a disciplined master of his emotions, never allowing a woman to affect him in any way, aside from the occasional bout of curious desire. Those incidents had been extremely mild compared to what he felt while holding the delicate yet fully rounded Leah Nolan in his arms.

No woman had a right to smell so intoxicating, feel so exquisite. No woman had a right to be damned beautiful.

Adjusting the tension at the front of the machine, he pulled back on the tightened handles, gritting his teeth as he continued the steady back and forth rhythm until sweat covered his entire body and the stress in his mind finally waned a bit.

Sensing that dawn was already upon him, he levered himself to his feet, trudging into the bathroom for a much needed shower--cold.

* * * *

When Theron emerged from the icy water, he felt somewhat better. At least the yearning in his body had subsided, though his brain was still muddled.

He slipped into navy silk boxers, uneasy about sleeping in the nude as was his custom. Catching sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, Theron frowned at himself. “What’s gotten into you, man? Are you going to let a woman you only found hours ago turn you into a lust-crazed lunatic? Turning your life upside down? You haven’t survived all these years just to give up now, have you?” he interrogated himself. “The only way you will meet your demise is if you are to give in to the intense feelings she instills within you. You’re made of stronger stuff than that.”

He pointed an index finger at the reflection. “Now listen here, you will tend to her injuries, but you will not feed from her and you will not make love to her, understand? And when she is well enough, you will send her back into the world.” The tone in his voice was harsh, and a twinge of guilt stabbed through him as he remembered her sadness at having lost the only people in her life. The episode seemed quite recent.

His black gaze grew piercing on himself. “Her past and future are none of your affair, Ambrose. You can heal her broken body, but that will be the extent of your charity. Is that clear?” He tilted his head and smiled, feeling satisfied; relieved he could feel so levelheaded after the great turmoil he had been in only minutes ago.

He yawned, stretching to work out any lingering kinks in his body. All he wanted to do was bury himself beneath the cool cotton sheets of his bed, which he would do after checking on Miss Nolan one last time.

Thankfully, she was still on the bed, though her head thrashed from side to side as a nightmare claimed her.

Walking over to her, Theron smiled softly as he laid a hand lightly over her forehead. Nightmares were one thing he could easily relieve her of.

Concentrating for only a moment, he sent soothing messages to her nocturnal mind, driving away the monsters that haunted her until her slumber was dark and peaceful, and she lay still once more. Fleetingly, he realized he would have to be very careful in not using any of his powers once she became conscious. She could not know who he was. Or, more precisely, what he was.

Theron shook his head slightly as he stared down at her. Yes, his life was definitely going to change for awhile.

“Sweet dreams, Leah,” he whispered, running a finger over her bottom lip. As he touched her, Theron felt a spark, one that threatened to rekindle his extinguished feelings of desire. He pulled his hand back quickly, leaving the room even faster, until he was in the sanctity of his bedroom. Closing the door manually, he leaned against the cool wood, closing his eyes in repentance. Had he done the right thing in bringing her here?

Opening his eyes, he slowly ambled to the bed, climbing beneath the covers, thinking that he had made a grave mistake.

Perhaps things would look better once he had some sleep, he reassured himself as he drifted off into slumber, his mind filled with a pair of emerald eyes.