Chapter Eight

"I thought you would be uglier."

"Thanks." He pinched her.

"Hey!" She laughed and slid closer to him, sandwiched between the warmth that emanated from both his body and the hearth.

"Why would I be ugly?" he wanted to know, angling his head to see her better.

"Well, is this your true form?"

"What kind of a question is that?" he demanded, indignant.

"The book from the library said you're supposed to shape shift."

"Did it now?" He traced lazy circles along her shoulder.

"Yep, the Internet said so, too."

"Don't believe everything you read."

"There was a lot of bad to read…" She glanced up at him from under her lashes. And his reaction to her date with Anthony wasn't exactly reassuring.

"I'm familiar with what's out there. Very little of it is based on fact."

"So, you don't … seduce … women, or men?"

"Sweetheart, I can assure you, I have never done anything even remotely sexual with another man. And I have never raped a woman. Ever."

"No, I don't think you would." Savannah considered that. No. She knew that, despite his strength, he would never resort to such hatefulness.

"Have you appeared to a lot of women?" She tried to make the inquiry sound nonchalant.

He smiled behind her thick curtain of hair. "Just so we are clear, you're asking if I make a habit of romancing women in their dreams, right?"

She sat up, dropping all pretense of casual. "Have you?"

"Not once before you, or anytime since."

"Really?"

He pulled her back down beside him. "Truly. You're … special to me."

"Why?"

"You really don't know?" He stared down at her and smiled. "I care about you, Savannah. A lot. And I have not been very considerate to you. You look exhausted."

Her eyes flashed up to his. He cared about her. "I'm fine—" she said automatically, dismissing her own exhaustion as she tried to work out the phrasing she would use to dig for more information from him.

"You are not fine." He shook his head and tucked her closer to his side. "You need to rest."

"No, I don't want to sleep. I don't want to wake up alone. I can make it a little bit longer."

"Hush now. I won't leave your side. I'll be here when you wake up, promise. Now close your eyes, and when you wake up, we'll be home."

She yawned, and her eyes seemed to close of their own volition. "Maybe just a quick nap…" she agreed, the combination of their earlier fight along with weeks of little to no rest finally catching up to her. She drifted easily into a deep sleep.

* * *

"Wake up, Savannah. We're home now." He lifted her carefully, waking her by degrees.

"Home?" She blinked and looked around, still groggy. To her surprise, they were in the bedroom of her rental house.

"You said this was your home," he reminded her, his face neutral, "so I brought you here."

"What time is it?"

"Just past seven in the morning. Do you need more sleep?"

"No, I … wait! You're here!" She sat up on her knees and learned forward to grasp him by his shoulders. "Oh my God! How are you here with me?"

"I told you I was real," he teased.

"Yeah, but you're really here."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No." She shook her head. "So, why didn't you come before?"

"I couldn't. It was not permitted," he answered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"I don't understand."

"You had to invite me in. Without it, I not only wouldn't have been able to enter the house back there, but I couldn't travel here with you either. At least, I couldn't fully materialize here."

"Oh." Awareness dawned. "That's why you were trying so hard to get us back to the house that night, years ago, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Is that why you were gone for five years?"

"Yes." His arms tightened around her. "The counsel was angry."

"Why?" she asked, twisting around until she was lying fully on her side.

"Because I had no business making love to you."

"I don't understand." She frowned. "Is it forbidden because we're different from one another?"

"In my world, there are laws that must be observed. The counsel is chosen every year from a group of elders. They enforce the laws of our society."

"Like the police?"

"Sort of like the police, yes."

"Are they fair?"

"That depends on who you ask, but yes, they are known to be fair."

"They really wouldn't allow you to come here until I invited you into that house?" she asked.

"That's the law."

"But how would they know if someone breaks the law?" She glanced around, feeling yet again like she was being watched.

"In my world, everyone is micro-chipped at birth."

"GPS tracking. Seriously?"

He didn't seem like it was a big deal. "A necessary evil in my society. Whole industries have opened up because of the need for tracking," he explained. "Lot of jobs were created, tracking centers, people to monitor the chips."

"Wow. Okay, so why that particular house?"

"Because it's ours, created for you and I. It's considered the only threshold that matters."

"But I thought the incubus," she paused, realizing how insane the conversation sounded, "were free to come and go as they please. Like ghosts."

"Centuries ago, that was the case. Like any group of … people … there are good and bad that walk among each other. A handful of bad ruined it for everyone, for lack of a better explanation."

"So the horror stories are true, then?" Savannah shivered as she recalled the legends she'd read about. But, looking at him, she was abruptly reminded of his earlier words. I care about you.

"Not anymore. Not for many, many years now. Our laws are ironclad in that arena. We have to be invited."

"You can go anywhere you want after that?"

"Within reason, yes," he said, settling against the pillowed headboard with her.

"What's your world called?"

"Your civilization knows it as the spirit world."

"Like Heaven or Hell?"

He smiled, bemused. Patient. Familiar. "Not really. My world is not so different from yours."

"Are there more demons there? I mean, more than one kind?"

"Technically, yes. But 'demon' is a phrase coined by your world, not mine." He laughed. "Trust me, it's not as scary as it sounds."

Savannah raised a brow but didn't argue the point. "I'll take your word for it. So. What about hauntings?"

"Ah, well, hauntings…"

"Yes, hauntings," she repeated. "You know, things like glass breaking on its own, or streams of water mysteriously drenching the unsuspecting?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Savannah."

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know what came over me. When I saw you with him, I … lost it. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Stop squirming. You're forgiven."

"I don't want you to see him again," he said quietly.

She snorted. "Yeah, I think you made your point pretty clear."

"Savannah…"

"Calm down. I'm not going to date him again."

"Thank you."

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked after several moments.

He took a long time to answer the question, as though unwilling to divulge the whole truth just yet. "Since the day of your twenty-third birthday," he finally confessed.

"And before that?"

"Just before you graduated from high school."

He sounded like he was telling the truth. "How did you find me?"

"I don't understand." He moved one hand over her hip, then trailed it up her arm and over to cup one of her breasts. His thumb slid over her pebbled nipple, back and forth, and she drew in a sharp breath but refused to be distracted.

"I mean, where did you first see me?"

He sighed. "You were standing on the porch at the Willow Brook the first time I saw you," he said, deliberately evasive. "You were hard to forget."

"I was?" She twisted around and stretched out above his muscular frame.

"You were," he confirmed, heat flaring in his eyes.

"Oh no!" She faltered a split second later. "I can't do this."

"Savannah, honey, it's a little late for that…"

"No, I just realized I don't know your name. I don't even know how old you are," she confessed in mortification.

"Come here." He reached for her, grinning, as the doorbell chimed from the entryway.

"Darn. Hold that thought."