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since seeing the woman who changed you?”
    “No.”
    I waited for an explanation. When none came, I prodded. “And?”
    “He’s been tracking me down for years. London, Budapest, Barcelona, Montreal.”
    “What happens? Do you fight?”
    “Not usually. I slip away when I see an opportunity.”
    “Is he trying to kill you?”
    “Yes.”
    “And me?”
    He hesitated. “I think so.”
    “Why don’t you fight him? End it for once?” I asked.
    “Because.” His face contorted into a tormented look. “He was my friend. My brother. He thinks he’s avenging the death of his wife.”
    How someone could feel sympathy for that monster surprised me. “Michel,” I said carefully. “It’s been over two hundred years. Enough for several human lifetimes. He needs to let go of his anger and you need to let go of the guilt.”
    “Those are human emotions. We aren’t human any longer. Can I ask you something now?”
    “Sure.”
    “What happened at Vamps?”
    The images from the fire came back to me. What a shitty night.
    Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I summarized the events into an abridged version.
    “After you jumped out the building, I went downstairs. Fire from the blast quickly spread through the club.”
    I noticed him bristle once again.
    “What is it?”
    “Fire.”
    “What about it?”
    “I don’t like it.”
    “Oh. A vampire thing?”
    He didn’t answer. “And you’re okay?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him scanning my body.
    “Looking for wounds?” I asked. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
    “How about the others? Did anyone get hurt?”
    “My friend Maya and I think we got everyone out. A few people were unconscious, but we didn’t see any fatalities.”
    “Good,” he said. When I looked at him, he had a finger on his chin and was staring straight ahead as if deep in thought.
    After a few more minutes, he said, “Pull into the driveway on the right.”
    I took the right and followed a dirt driveway down away from the road. It led to a tiny Tudor facing the Atlantic.
    “We’re here.”

Chapter Four
     
    Michel held my hand as he led me up a stone walkway to an old cottage that would have fit perfectly into a Thomas Kinkade painting.
    I hesitated on the doorstep.
    When he realized, he said, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
    I looked into those bright-blue eyes. Eyes that weren’t human. Was that why they were so entrancing? And could I trust him? Should I trust him?
    “Please, Nike. Come in. All I want to do right now is protect you from harm. Not be the cause of it.”
    He looked so sincere and I wanted to believe him. Did he truly care about me? Or was he just luring me in? “I’m a fool to go into a house with someone who admitted thirst for human blood. But I suppose I don’t stand much more chance out here either.”
    “I confided in you, Nike. That’s not something I would do unless I had feelings for you.”
    The cynical part inside of me said it’s easy to confess when you know you’ll silence the listener. But a much bigger part of me wanted nothing more than to be alone with him in this cottage.
    He opened the door to a welcoming living room with a basket of afghans next to a sofa and another one in between two Victorian chairs. Equipped for a cool night on the New England coast.
    “I’d light a fire to keep you warm, but under the circumstances…” His voice trailed off.
    I forced a smile. “Enough fire for one night.” And I nodded in his direction. “And you’re clearly not a fan. Can it harm—you know—people, um—those like you?”
    Michel smiled, but didn’t answer. “How about a hot cocoa?”
    I didn’t blame him. If fire could harm him, why would he tell me, a human, how to hurt him? “That would be great. Thanks.”
    I peeled off the stiletto boots, feeling the relief of having them off my sore feet. Then I curled up on the sofa under a crocheted afghan as best I could in the tight leather dress.
    Michel grabbed a mug and a package