The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

in case rescuers were on their way.
    Her scent loomed strong around her house. He decided she must walk the path often in order for the aroma to be so pervasive. The house smelled of herbs, coffee, flowers — and her.
    She lived in a two-storey Victorian, the sleeping area upstairs. He carried her up to her bedroom, used one hand to pull the covers back on the bed, and settled her onto the soft mattress. Then he straightened, surveyed the area with his preternatural vision, and smiled.
    Her room was colourful and feminine. He strolled around the perimeter, studying the artwork, noting the musical instruments and appreciating the soft smells hovering around the unlit scented candles. On a table in the corner, covered with a vibrantly coloured cloth, lay a deck of tarot cards. He selected a card and laughed: the devil. How appropriate. The walls were adorned with photographs of the woman playing instruments in various settings, along with diplomas from well-known universities. He read one of the diplomas. Grace Blackburn. Her name is Grace. He paused in front of a framed newspaper article about the opening of her sound studio on the Pearl Street Mall a few years earlier. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she must be a musician.
    I used to love music — a long time ago. In fact, I once hoped . . .
    He immediately stomped on the useless thought, mentally crushing it like a nasty bug. Nothing would be gained by dwelling on the past. His existence had changed in the blink of an eye and he had to face reality. Anything else was too painful.
    After exploring the human female’s room, he found himself strangely reluctant to leave. He tugged a wicker rocking chair from the corner to the side of her bed and sat, watching her sleep.
    If she knew what was in her room, she’d run screaming.
    Something about this mortal woman made him feel oddly peaceful. It was as if a relaxing energy emanated from her person - like her actual physical body gave off a pleasant hum. He imagined his skin warming from an invisible heat source. He leaned in closer. Here he was, sitting beside a sleeping human without drinking from her. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he leave?
    The expression on her face was sweet and innocent, like a child’s. He gazed down her curvy body and was reminded that she definitely qualified as a grown-up woman. Her beautiful blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, giving her an ethereal, other-worldly appearance. Ivory skin shone translucent and perfect. Full, soft-looking lips aroused his body. He wondered how they’d taste.
    That realization jolted him back to sanity and he leaped quickly from the chair, then bent over the slumbering human. “You will sleep through the night, experiencing only pleasant dreams, and will wake in the morning remembering an uneventful walk to your home the previous evening. You will feel relaxed and happy about your life.”
    Without thinking, he inhaled her aroma and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Goodnight, Grace.”
    What the hell, Ethan? You are so screwed up.
    He bolted down the stairs, closed and locked her front door and ran with vampire speed back to the lair where his undead companions waited.
    Grace woke to the sound of the telephone ringing.
    She blinked her eyelids, which seemed overly heavy, and rolled towards the annoying noise coming from the bedside table.
    “Hello?” she croaked.
    “Grace? Is that you? What’s wrong with your voice?”
    “Uh-huh, it’s me, Roz.” She cleared her throat. “There’s nothing wrong with my voice. I’m just groggy from sleeping.”
    “You’re still sleeping? Are you sick?” her friend asked, anxiety elevating the pitch of her voice. “The only time I’ve ever known you sleep until noon is if you’re too exhausted to get out of bed. Or you’ve sung yourself into a trance. Should I skip my yoga class and come over?”
    Grace forced herself to sit up, which wasn’t as easy as she would have expected. Maybe she was coming down with something. “Don’t be silly, pal. I’m an adult woman who can take care of herself.” She glanced at the clock, surprised. “You’re right though. I don’t usually sleep this late.” She shook her head to clear away the strange mental cobwebs. “I had the most bizarre dream.”
    “Ah, a dream. Excellent. Right up my alley. What did you dream? Have you finally begun to explore your gift of prophecy? Roz sees all and knows all.”
    Grace chuckled. “I don’t