Embrace the Night

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darkness would overcome her, stealing the strength from her legs so that she couldn't run, and then he would be there, bending over her, enveloping her in the folds of his cloak until she was aware of nothing but the blood-red glow in his eyes and the smell of her own fear. And then he would smile, exposing his teeth, the canines long and sharp.

And then the true terror began, flooding through her with each wild beat of her heart as he bent over her. Horror would clog her throat, trapping her scream inside, so that she could only stare up at him, as helpless as a kitten caught in the jaws of a wolf. She would feel his lips on hers, his hands caressing her back. And then, just as she had convinced herself there was nothing to be afraid of, she would feel the sharp sting of his teeth at her neck.

Taut with fear, she would close her eyes, waiting for the pain, but there was no pain, only a gradual awareness of sensual pleasure that started deep within her and vibrated outward. To her horror, she would tilt her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to the ravages of his teeth. Heat would pulse through her, its warmth hypnotic, so that, when he finally drew away, she cried out in protest, begging him to take more, to take it all. At her words, he would laugh softly and then plunge his fangs into her neck again, a low growl of demonic ecstasy rumbling in his throat as he drained the blood from her body.

She would wake up screaming then, her body trembling violently, the bedclothes soaked with perspiration.

After the first few nights, she tried to stay awake, but after a strenuous day of rehearsing and dancing, her body demanded rest.

She had tried sleeping with the light on, but even that failed to banish the demons that haunted her, and when that didn't help, she asked one of the other dancers to stay with her for a couple of days, thinking Jean Marie's presence might keep her nightmares at bay, but her screams frightened Jean Marie so badly that the girl packed up her things and left while it was still dark outside.

As a last resort, she asked Maurice to come and spend the nights on the sofa. It didn't stop the dreams, but it was good to have him there when she awoke in tears, good to feel the solid strength of his arms around her, to hear his voice telling her that everything would be all right.

Another week passed, and then another. Maurice proposed to her again, and when she refused him, he asked candidly if she would consider letting him move in with her.

"I'm here most nights anyway," he said with irrefutable logic. "And it would be so much more convenient if my belongings were here, as well."

"I don't know…" Sara shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea." "You're not thinking of a reconciliation with him, are you?"

"No. Whatever we had is over. It's just that…" She shrugged, and then smiled at him. "I just can't. What would people say?"

"All right, Sara Jayne," he said good-naturedly. "We'll let it go for now. But I promise you, we'll talk about it again. Soon." He winked at her. "I'll be by to pick you up later."

She kissed him good-bye, then went to sit by the window. Why was she so reluctant to share her life with Maurice? He loved her. He was kind, thoughtful, fun to be with, intelligent, generous. He would