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affairs with underage students. Congressmen being arrested for nefarious dealings. The rich preying on the poor. War in the Middle East. The price of gas going up and down like a yo-yo on steroids.
    Rhys was about to turn off the set when the perfectly coiffed female anchorwoman said, “This just in from our sister station in New York City. The bodies of a man and a woman were discovered near the Hudson River only moments ago. According to undisclosed sources, both victims appear to have been drained of blood.”
    It was the last three words that caught his attention. They seemed to echo off the walls.
    Drained of blood.
    Rhys leaned forward, his gaze focused on the screen. In his gut, he knew those three words could mean only one thing. There was a vampire on the rampage somewhere in the city of New York.
    Switching off the screen, Rhys opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The cops would never catch the vampire responsible for the killings, just as they would never solve the crime. It would take another vampire to bring the rogue down. Or a damn good hunter.
    He grinned faintly, thinking it was too bad for the NYPD that Daisy and her family had given up hunting.
    Thoughts of Daisy brought Megan to mind, not that he needed help to think of her. Megan had been uppermost in his mind since that first night. He wondered what she was doing this evening, since Shore’s was closed on Sundays and Mondays.
    Curious, he went into his bedroom to change clothes. Before he’d met Megan DeLacey, his wardrobe had been sparse—a few pairs of good slacks, a dozen shirts. But now…He shook his head. His closet held enough outfits to clothe three or four men for a year.
    Until Megan, he had never given much thought to what he wore. Now, he found himself wondering what she would find most appealing.
    Exasperated, he pulled on a pair of black slacks and a dark gray shirt, stepped into a pair of black boots, and made his way to the underground garage and his private parking place. Being the owner of the building definitely had its compensations, he thought, as he slid behind the wheel of the Jag and backed out of the garage.
    Moments later, he pulled up in front of Megan’s house.
    Lifting his head, he expanded his senses, swore softly when he realized the place was empty. After rolling down the window, he sniffed the air, sorting through the myriad scents that swirled through it for the one he sought.
    It didn’t take long. With a wry grin, he put the Jag in gear and followed her scent across town to the multiplex.
    He parked next to her car, then hurried inside, only to come to an abrupt halt when he entered the darkened theater. He hadn’t detected the scent of anyone else in her car, but what if she had come here to meet another man? Hands clenched, he searched for her. With his preternatural vision and enhanced sense of smell, it took only moments to locate her.
    On silent feet, he slid into the empty seat beside her.
    Megan didn’t have to see Costain’s face to know he was there. She didn’t even wonder why he had come, or how he had known where she was. Quite the contrary. It seemed perfectly natural that he should appear, seemingly out of thin air. One minute she had been thinking of him, and the next he was there beside her, as if her thoughts had summoned him.
    â€œDid I miss much?” he whispered, leaning toward her.
    â€œOnly the first hour,” she whispered back, and suddenly the depression that had sent her to the movies was gone as if it had never been, and all because of a man she hardly knew. “How’s your arm?”
    â€œWhat? Oh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
    â€œWould you like some popcorn?”
    He wrinkled his nose at the smell of butter and salt. “No, thanks.”
    She wondered what he would say if she suggested they leave. The only reason she had come to the theater was because she hadn’t wanted to stay