The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

aim for the right side to even out your injuries.”
    He gave her a wry grin. “Enduring poor attempts at humour is better than being dead. At least, you have a decent bike. My fragile male ego wouldn’t be able to handle being rescued by a lady on a scooter.”
    With a passenger on board, the trip to her house lasted twice as long as normal. Mitch clutched her waist with a vice grip. He cursed and muttered under his breath, but matched the rhythm of the bike’s motion.
    When they arrived at her small log cabin, he slid off on unsteady legs. The bloodstain on his shirt had spread. Sophia tossed her helmet and gear into a pile. Leaving the bike next to her shed, she led him into the living room.
    The place followed the standard mountain cabin decor -comfortable recliners, plaid-patterned couch, faux bear rug and animal paintings.
    “Sit down before you fall down.” Sophia guided Mitch to the couch.
    “Are you going to turn on the lights or did you forget to pay your electric bill?” he asked with a nervous edge.
    She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the strength for a difficult explanation. If there had been a phone anywhere else, she would have avoided this.
    Working up the nerve, she said, “I can’t tolerate visible light.”
    “Can’t tolerate light? Like a vampire?” His confusion turned into alarm.
    She huffed with exasperation. “I wish! At least vampires can go to a movie.”
    Mitch gestured as if calming a crazy person. “Look, all I need is to use your phone.”
    She sighed. Shouldn’t have made that vampire crack. “I’m sorry. I’m not explaining it well. I’m out of practice.” Sophia drew in a breath. Time for the standard spiel. She would love to tell the truth, but who, except the wrong people, would believe her? So instead, she said, “I have a rare disease called erythropoietic protoporphyria or EEP for short. Light kills my red blood cells, so I have to avoid all visible light, which means I live in the middle of nowhere with no TV, computer or ...” Human contact. But that sounded pathetic.
    If anything, her story made him more uneasy. She wondered why.
    “What do you do when the sun comes up?”
    Retreat to my coffin. “I sleep during the day.”
    He had an odd . . . queasy expression. Perhaps he searched for words of regret or encouragement that she didn’t deserve to hear. Before he could speak, she said, “There’s a phone and a lamp in the guest room, and a light in the guest bath. You can make your call and at least clean that gash before it becomes infected.”
    “Phone call first.” He surged to his feet, but paused. “Where are we?”
    “North of Shooting Creek, North Carolina.”
    “North Carolina! I didn’t realize ...” He rubbed his hand on his swollen temple. “How far to Knoxville?”
    “One hundred and thirty miles.”
    “Damn.” He considered. “Do you have an address?”
    “I have GPS coordinates. Will they work?”
    “Yeah. I just wish I knew where they were heading,” he muttered more to himself than to her.
    “Your friends?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    Sophia realized he didn’t know about the farmhouse. She explained. “It’s isolated, but I can pull the GPS coordinates off a topographical map for you.” Strangely, her offer increased his apprehension.
    “Good.” He seemed distracted. “Where ... is the phone?”
    She took his hand in the pitch-darkness and guided him to the guest room. The cabin’s first floor contained a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. Her room and another bath were down in the basement.
    Handing Mitch the cordless phone, she put his other hand on the lamp switch. “Wait until you hear the door close before turning the light on. I’ll go pull the coordinates for you.”
    “Thanks,” he said.
    A strange hitch in his voice worried Sophia but, considering what the man had been through tonight, she didn’t blame him. She was halfway to the door when he flicked the lamp on. Blinding whiteness obscured her vision. She stumbled and bumped into a chair.
    “What did you do that for?” she demanded, fumbling around. Where was that door? The light was too strong for her to bend.
    Instead of answering, Mitch grabbed her wrists and pushed her against a wall.
    “Let go!” Fear flushed through her. Idiot. Why hadn’t she asked for identification?
    She tried to kick him, but missed. He pressed his weight on her, pinning her legs.
    “You can’t see me, can you?” Accusation laced his