also didn’t know how long her good period would last. She vacillated between moments of complete lucidity and rationality and times where animalistic bloodlust ruled. Whether she’d ever have any kind of control over the craving for blood that continually gnawed at her was something she didn’t know.
But maybe Craig did. He’d known what she was before she attacked him.
“Evie?”
She eased out of his arms, wanting to be able to get away if she needed to. He was calm now, but that could change in a heartbeat. She knew that all too well as it had happened to her.
“I’m an artist. I was an artist.” She didn’t know what she was any longer.
“What kind of artist? Sculpture, painting, mixed-media?”
She was impressed he knew there were differences. “Mostly oils and acrylics, but I dabble with watercolor as well. I’ve sold at a few local galleries and some of the local coffee shops hang my work for sale. I’m not famous, but I make enough to support myself.” And she’d never needed much, not as long as she had enough to buy paints and canvas. Now her dreams of having an art career were gone.
“Go on,” Craig encouraged. She studied him, trying not to notice how handsome he looked leaning against the wall in his ripped T-shirt and jeans. His shoulders were broad and his abs taut. Her stomach fluttered.
Evie glanced away, shocked she could feel attraction toward a man she barely knew. Considering what she’d done to him, she didn’t think Craig would appreciate her interest. Heck, he’d probably run in the opposite direction if he had any idea. That thought depressed her and she went back to her story.
“This mysterious patron started buying up my work. It was flattering at first, you know. The idea that someone loved my work enough to buy so many pieces, to spend so much money.” She gave a wry laugh. “Should have known it was too good to be true.” Evie pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, suddenly cold. She could mostly regulate her body temperature, but she still had problems doing so from time to time.
“Your leather jacket is right there if you need it.” She pointed off to his left. “I cleaned it up the best I could. You were very sick.”
“I’m fine, Evie.”
She liked the way he said her name. Liked it way more than she should.
“So anyway, it started with a phone call. After that, I came back to my studio apartment one day after being out and found a rose on my daybed. It happened again and freaked me out. Then there were notes saying he was watching me or that he liked a particular painting I’d done.”
“Did you contact the police?”
She nodded, remembering how alone she’d felt and how frightened. “They took a report, but there was nothing they could do. I didn’t know who this guy was or why he was stalking me. And the woman who’d sold him my paintings could only describe him in the most generic terms. He’d paid for my work in cash so there was no way for the police to trace him.”
Craig scooted across the floor until he was sitting right in front of her and caught her chin in his hand. “It’s not your fault. The vampire targeted you. It was nothing you did, but something about you captured his attention.”
His kindness and understanding almost reduced her to tears, but she couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to be tough. Had to learn how to fight if she was going to defeat the monster who’d done this to her.
“That went on for a few weeks. Then I went home one night, it wasn’t late, but it was dark.” Evie swallowed hard as her remembered fear turned her blood cold.
“I hurried even though I couldn’t sense anyone watching me.” Her boot heels had made a fast clicking sound on the sidewalk as she’d practically run home. “I had three deadbolts on my door and locked them all.”
Craig rubbed his warm hands over her arms and shoulders, but she ignored the comfort. She had to finish. “I was standing