The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

college, romance, marriage and babies, if they weren’t forced to become night-time operatives for some government. Her existence was just that, an existence. She had retreated from the world, but. . . she didn’t have to. Suddenly a whole list of things she could do scrolled through her mind. If she had a second chance, she wouldn’t hide any more. If not, then exchanging her life for four others would be consolation enough.
    The fear left her, leaving behind a peaceful confidence.
    Rick kept his hold and the gun on her. The hot scent of blood filled the air, gagging her. A man moaned in pain.
    “Damn, lady. You sure did a number on them.”
    “They’re survivable injuries,” she said.
    “But they’re no good to me now. I can’t take them with me and I can’t leave them here.”
    The gun moved. “No!” she yelled. She spun, knocking his arm away as the gun fired. They fell together.
    He rolled on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. Rick pressed the red-hot barrel into her neck. She cried out as the smell of burning flesh replaced the cloying blood scent.
    “You’re dead,” he said.
    She jerked as the gun roared. Pain blazed. Sophia struggled to draw breath as a heavy weight settled on her chest. Warm liquid soaked her shirt. Can’t breathe. She felt light as her father called her name. Then he shook her shoulders . . . hard. When he slapped her, she tried to punch him, but he grabbed her wrist.
    “Are you all right?” Mitch asked.
    She felt her neck. Aside from the burn, it remained whole, but the metallic tang of blood dominated her senses. Her hands were sticky. “Rick?”
    “Dead. Come on.” Mitch pulled her to her feet.
    She wobbled. “The girls? Ed?”
    “Oldest trick in the book. I hid the girls in the basement, and left the back door wide open. Ed’s out cold.” He wrapped her in a hug. “I’ve done a number of stupid things today, but I wasn’t going to leave you.”
    She clung to him, enjoying his warmth and strength. “Thanks for saving—”
    He silenced her with a kiss. All too soon he broke away. “Just returning the favour.”
    Mitch kissed her again, but this one had a feeling of finality about it. He led her outside. The darkness embraced her and she fanned her blistered neck.
    “My team will be here in an hour. You need to go.” He was all business.
    Despite the ache chewing holes in her heart Sophia understood he was protecting her.
    Her moment of clarity had given her plenty of ideas of how to use her talent to help people. Even though she could see in the dark, it didn’t mean she had to live there.
    An icy chill gripped her. She slogged to her bike. The ride home blurred into one long endurance test, ending with a collapse on her bed.
    Months passed. Sophia ventured back into society. The Association for the Blind taught her how to live in the light. She reconnected with the people at her father’s firehouse. No longer afraid of being caught by the feds, Sophia explored the limits of her unique talent. She stopped hiding and rejoined the world. At night, her activities became more clandestine. She aided a search and rescue mission, helping to find a lost boy scout, and she followed a potential arsonist, stopping him before he set another barn fire.
    Sophia was painting when headlights swept her cabin. The Association was delivering her guide dog tonight. Eager to meet her furry companion, she hurried outside. Caught in the headlights, she didn’t need to act blind. She clutched a post on her porch to keep from tripping. When the lights extinguished, she saw a huge pickup truck with a Suzuki Z250 in the bed parked in her driveway. No dog.
    Mitch hopped down from the driver’s seat. She blinked, but he remained.
    “What do you think?” He gestured to the bike.
    “You should have bought a Honda instead of a Suck-zuki,” she said.
    “They’re fighting words. You’ll change your mind when you’re eating my dust.”
    She laughed. “You think you can keep up with me?”
    He reached into the cab and pulled out a helmet. “State-of-the-art night-vision visor.” He glanced up. A waning half-moon hung in the sky. “Plenty of light. Want to go for a ride?”
    “I can’t. I’m waiting for a dog.”
    “A dog’s more important?” he asked with a neutral tone.
    “The dog’s here to stay, and isn’t just visiting for a joyride.”
    He set the helmet on the seat, and strode towards her. He wore her father’s T-shirt. The bruises on his face were