"You ain't seen nothing yet," he replied, thinking of all the modern wonders she had yet to see.
"And what is this?" she asked, pointing to an odd-looking contraption that vaguely resembled a chair.
He lifted the lid, revealing a bowl of clear water. "It's a toilet."
"Toi-let? What does it do?"
To his amusement, she blushed when he explained, as delicately as he could, what a toilet was used for and the function of toilet paper.
He pointed out the towels and the soap, showed her where he kept his shampoo.
She nodded, then yawned behind her hand.
"It's late," he said. "You should get some sleep."
"Will I wake up again?"
He shook his head in exasperation as he walked her back to the bedroom. She watched him warily as she slipped under the covers, her trepidation evident in every taut line of her body, the wary expression in her eyes.
"Go to sleep, Brenna." He spoke quietly, his gaze holding hers, his voice winding around her like silken threads, stealing her will.
With a soft sigh, her body went limp, her head falling back on the pillow. Moments later, she was sleeping soundly.
"Forgive me, Brenna," he murmured. "But you need the rest."
He stared down at her. How like his Atiyana she was, with her long red hair and deep green eyes. She possessed an innocence that had nothing to do with her age and everything to do with the purity of her heart and her soul. Impulsively, he smoothed a lock of hair from her brow, then bent down and brushed his lips across her cheek. Her skin was warm and smooth. His gaze moved to her throat.
Muttering an oath, he dragged his gaze away and left the room.
She would be hungry when she woke in the morning. He would have to stock the shelves before he sought his rest.
With that thought in mind, he headed for the nearest grocery store, surprised by the number of people shopping at such a late hour. Mostly women alone, most of them in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few older women, as well. He filed the knowledge away, thinking that he had stumbled upon another hunting ground, one where he could prowl the aisles like a lion stalking the jungle for prey.
Thrusting the thought aside, he perused his surroundings. He had never been in a grocery store before. He usually picked up the few items he needed for his own personal use at the local drug store.
He glanced at the bounty spread before him— shiny red apples, bunches of bananas, fragrant oranges, grapefruit, lettuce, celery, carrots, potatoes, and onions. When he had been a mortal man, his family had raised or grown everything they needed. He had loved working in the fields. He remembered the scent of freshly turned earth, the feel of it in his hands, the satisfaction he had felt when he saw the first green shoots push their way through the earth. Though it was no longer necessary for him to grow food, he had never lost his love of the land. Save for a few ancient oaks, he had planted all the trees and shrubs that grew in such abundance around his house.
He moved down the next aisle, shaking his head at what he saw. Frozen foods and prepackaged meals were unheard of in the days when he had walked the earth as a mortal man, as were cuts of meat in neat little packages, milk in plastic containers, and eggs in cartons.
The glaring lights in the supermarket hurt his eyes as he wheeled a wobbly cart up and down the aisles. Though he had never tasted any of the foodstuffs he tossed into the basket, he had seen a good number of them advertised on television. He grinned as he plucked a box of Rice Krispies from the shelf, wondering if they really did go snap, crackle, pop. Dry cereal was as foreign to him as it would be to his houseguest. With that in mind, he bought a box of oatmeal, thinking that Brenna might find it more familiar. He bought buttermilk and bread and cheese, thinking that, although they were not exactly like what she had known, they, too, would at least be familiar.
He bought sugar and flour, salt and pepper, cans of corn and carrots, peaches and soup, a bag of rice, a variety of drinks. Though he had soap at home, he bought some pretty little scented bars, thinking she might fancy them. He bought everything he thought she might like, including four flavors of ice cream and several candy bars.
He grimaced when he came upon a display of Halloween items for sale at half price. Aside from numerous bags of candy and fake pumpkins, there were several talking dolls dressed as Frankenstein and the Mummy. And, of course, Dracula, complete with bloodied fangs. Unable to resist, he pulled the string on the vampire doll, grinned when a faintly accented voice trilled "The Monster Mash."
Leaving the food aisles, he picked up several pots and pans, some paper plates and plastic cups, plastic knives, forks, and spoons, a coffee cup, napkins, a roll of paper towels, and soap for the dishwasher. He paused in the pet food department and then, with a shake of his head, he tossed a bag of cat food into the cart. Passing a display of cookbooks on his way to the checkout line, he picked one up, thinking Brenna might find it useful.
By the time he had finished shopping, he had spent a small fortune. With a shake of his head, he wheeled the cart out to his car. After loading the bags into the trunk and the backseat of the Ferrari, he slid behind the wheel and drove home.
It was near dawn by the time he put everything away.
All the appliances in the kitchen were recent additions, purchased a few months back when he had been thinking of selling the house and finding a new dwelling place.
He smiled faintly as he left the kitchen and headed toward his lair. Tomorrow night he would take Brenna Flanagan shopping for a new wardrobe, and then he would take her out and show her a world she had never seen before.
He paused in the hallway, then turned right and went into his library. Pulling the book on ancient myths and legends from the shelf, he thumbed through the pages.
He had indeed changed history, he mused as he replaced the book on the shelf and walked toward his lair.
There was no longer any mention of Brenna Flanagan being burned at the stake. There was no longer any mention of her at all.
CHAPTER 6
Brenna woke with a start. She stared around the room, forgetting for the moment where she was. And then she remembered. She was in Roshan DeLongpre's house. In his bedroom. In his bed. Even though he said he didn't sleep in it, it was still his bed.
Vampire. The word whispered through her mind. Growing up, she had been taught that vampires were soulless monsters, merciless creatures who preyed on the living, draining them of blood or, worse, turned them into creatures like themselves. Granny O'Connell had said they were fiends of the worst kind.
Brenna had never met one, of course, nor had she truly believed they existed, any more than she had believed in werewolves or elves or any of the other fey folk of ancient legend and myth until she met Roshan. He was very real, though he didn't seem like a ravening monster. He had saved her from an agonizing death, and she would be forever grateful for that. Less grateful that he had brought her here, to this time and place.