The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

smiled, then shook her head.
    How peculiar. She definitely didn’t feel like herself today.
    Ethan’s eyes popped open the second the sun set.
    Concentrating, he tried to understand the wispy, uncomfortable feeling he’d never had before. He couldn’t shake the idea that he’d been . . . interrupted. Or something. Who knew what went on in his brain while he was dead during the daylight hours, but he had the craziest sense that he’d been thinking a few seconds ago when his life force (death force?) reanimated his body. His sire, Alexander, adamantly insisted vampires were simply empty shells while the sun ruled the sky, nothing but paralysed cadavers. But if that was true, Ethan must be losing his mind. Maybe he was. First he’d lurked around the human woman without fanging her and then he dreamed, of all damn things.
    It was her. The mortal female. Grace. Her scent was all over him. She’d done something. He just knew it.
    He sat up in one of the cardboard boxes that passed for coffins in the basement of the vampires’ headquarters, gathered the bottom of his T-shirt under his nose so he could sniff it, and sighed. He flopped back, feeling suddenly as relaxed and limp as a drained meth addict. Even her smell melted his bones.
    Compelled to see her, he quickly showered, changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt, ran a comb through his thick, dark hair and skulked out the hidden exit. It wouldn’t do for Alexander to become too interested in his activities. The master had forbidden his offspring to take any action that wasn’t a direct order or coven business. If the short-tempered vampire knew about Ethan’s new obsession, there would be hell to pay.
    Ethan wasn’t an idiot. He usually gave every appearance of following the rules. But he couldn’t seem to dampen his fascination with the blonde-haired human.
    He knew what he intended to do was dangerous. Going to the human’s - Grace’s - studio meant being in the vicinity of other mortals. Other mortals with beating hearts and the pungent, intoxicating aroma of blood flowing just beneath the surface of their skin. He’d never been able to control himself before. Was he willing to go berserk and massacre an entire building full of people?
    Apparently, he was.
    On his walk downtown he practised saying her name out loud, “Grace, Grace, Grace . . .” The sound enchanted him. He’d gotten so caught up in his verbal trance that he missed all the reactions of the people he passed on the busy pedestrian mall.
    When he arrived at her studio, he slipped around behind the building and leaned against the brick wall as a realization hit him. His knees went soft. Had he just walked along a street filled with his favourite food source without attacking anyone? The thought stunned him, then he laughed as he noticed he’d actually clutched his chest, making the familiar, mortal heart attack gesture. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like that. Something almost frighteningly freaky was happening. He hadn’t felt this odd since becoming a vampire in the late 1960s. Almost human.
    Beautiful chanting captured his attention.
    He inched towards the music studio window and peeked in, expecting to see a roomful of mortals. The large space was empty. He took a step back and focused on listening to the sweet sounds still issuing from somewhere nearby. Lowering his gaze, he tracked along the foundation of the building until he came to an open window in the lower level. He stepped closer and squatted to investigate.
    The basement of the building had been transformed into a sound chamber. Instead of muting the sounds, the acoustical structure of the room exaggerated the depth of the notes, causing the frequencies to reverberate in breathtaking ways.
    He could literally feel the chanting in every cell of his body. Or whatever made up his body these days.
    The chamber appeared much larger than he’d expected. At least fifty people sat in concentric circles on the marble floor. Grace knelt in the centre, next to a sobbing woman who lay prone on a body-size pad, clutching her stomach. Ethan’s keen vampire nose told him the woman was sick. Not far from death. Why had she come to Grace’s circle on her deathbed? Maybe she wanted to experience the same peaceful feeling he’d experienced at Grace’s bedside. He knew from personal experience how horrible a painful death was.
    The chanting was so powerful he felt his consciousness slipping