Those eyes were watching again.

Aleksandra turned up the camping light, hoping the brighter orb would fight off the eerie black of the night and the piercing gaze she could feel boring into her back.

It didn’t.

He was there again.

Watching.

After jogging over to the end of the platform, Aleksandra peered out into the darkness. She even lifted the lantern higher so she could see farther, hoping to catch some sign of whoever was out there.

“Hey,” she called. “Come on out.”

Darkness. Nothingness. Silence.

“I know you’re out there!”

Only crickets chirped, and that was all. Shivering, she rubbed her arms. Where is he? What is he doing out there? Aleksandra didn’t know if it was a he; she just felt it was a man. She’d been somewhat relieved nothing had emerged when she’d called out, but surely if whatever was out there meant her harm, it would have done so by now. She hadn’t seen so much as a shadow or heard any noise to suggest there was someone out there. She just knew.

When she’d first become aware of the niggling feeling of being watched, Aleksandra was scared, but of what, she couldn’t say. She supposed knowing a stranger was studying her night after night was creepy, yet now the constant surveillance didn’t scare her. It seemed oddly protective at this point, and she’d been trying to find any concrete sign of those eyes for a week now.

She listened intently for a few more moments, but there was nothing. After putting the lantern down on the stone platform, she turned back to her work. In an attempt to ease her nerves, she began to hum one of her favorite country songs while adding a few notes into her computer.

A sudden wind whipped her hair, the icy breeze chilling her skin despite the mild fall weather. Her vocal cords felt frozen, her sassy little tune cut short as she began to shiver. There was something else out there tonight. It wasn’t good, and that left her feeling vulnerable and on edge. The night was dragging on, and again she paused to look around and listen.

“Work,” she mumbled to herself. “You need to focus.”

She opened a thick notebook, then dated the page before she started writing. The cold she felt was pushed away by the heat boring into her back.

It was back. He was back.

Those eyes were watching.

“Crap,” she mumbled, throwing down her pen in frustration.

A low snap sounded behind her. She spun around and tried to see what had made the noise.

Nothing.

Where the hell is he? She knew he was out there.

“Which is nuts,” she whispered, trying to keep calm while she scanned the area once more. “What could he be doing out there?”

A woman alone in a cemetery at night was risky, and the pepper spray she kept snapped to her belt didn’t seem to be adequate protection against whatever lurked in the dark. Logically, he had to be stalking her and meaning her harm, but he’d never once made a move in a week.

Nothing.

Nerves beyond frayed, she turned away and placed her laptop in front of the mausoleum she needed to study. Her thesis was coming along. This was her second week of working at night in the creepy cemetery, and Aleksandra was at her breaking point. Between her classes and work schedule, the only time she could get her research done was from ten at night till about midnight or one in the morning. Lack of sleep, along with whatever was going on in reality or her imagination inside the cemetery, was starting to take its toll.

There was good here. And there was evil. It’s a damn cemetery—what did I expect?

“You’re crazy,” she told herself, grabbing her phone to snap some pictures of the menacing structure she’d chosen to study tonight. “Keep working.”

Another icy wind blew through, ruffling her papers and her nerves.

There was something else here tonight. Something very bad. Yet there was nothing she could see. She couldn’t protect herself if she didn’t know what she was in danger from. The research she needed for her thesis was vital, so she’d just wait and work. It could be all in her mind, she assured herself.

The towering stone pillars beside her were bulky, rising high into the night sky, far taller than any of the other crypts and stone monuments in the old cemetery. Thick and winding vines rose up from the dead leaves and fallen pine needles on the ground to entwine themselves around the columns that framed the black iron doors of the crypt. They shadowed the already dark platform at the end of the steep granite steps that led up to the entrance.

It was impressive for sure, but certainly not a welcoming entrance. She clicked her tongue nervously against her teeth, making more notations in the notebook. She’d avoided this particular tomb on purpose, almost needing to work up the nerve to approach it and study it. Even now as she wrote, her teeth were clenched.

An owl hooted, an animal bayed at the half-moon, and Aleksandra jumped again as that frozen wind cut through her, flapping the leaves of the ivy and the tall, slender branches of the pines behind the cement burial tomb. Furious at the spastic line of pen that jagged across the page she’d been writing on, Aleksandra crossed out the now distorted paragraph.

“Enough,” she cried before forcing out a deep breath to try and relax. “There’s nothing out there, except in your imagination!”

After throwing her pen down, she grabbed up the tape measure and climbed the steep steps to the next platform. She began to take the architecture measurements she needed for her research, her hands trembling.

If I finish, I can go home, she urged herself.

She began to hurry.

There was evil, she was sure inside, and she was scared.

And then there were the eyes. She felt them on her even now.

* * * * *

What the hell is she doing now?

He narrowed his eyes, intently watching the blonde as she charged up the steps of the crypt. His irritation toward the young woman was growing, yet Sorin knew she had no idea what she was dealing with.

Sorin wasn’t fooled by her stride. He knew she was scared. The first night she’d come, she’d been fine, maybe a little skittish, but after a few late nights in the cemetery, surrounded by the dead and the evil that lurked there, it was getting to her.

Now she’d been here for over a week. He’d stayed on the outskirts of this section of the cemetery, careful to keep himself out of her sight. There was no doubt the blonde beauty needed to go. He’d tried snapping a branch earlier, hoping she’d get spooked and call it a night, but she seemed determined not to be run off.

Watching her stumble on the top stone, Sorin fought the urge to charge from the shadows and grab her up. He’d cradle her slight form, which he’d studied the past few days, knowing he’d delight in the almost frail, delicate body she possessed. She had gumption and a stubborn streak that he had to admire. Her ash-blonde hair was thin but wavy and fell past her shoulders, framing her tiny nose and her gray eyes. And those lips, full and pale pink.

Sorin curled his fingers into his palms, the sharp nails biting into the skin as he watched her pull out the measuring tape again, then jot down more stuff in that damn notebook of hers. Next she gripped the gates to the crypt, trying to move them, but then things changed.

The gates groaned and shook, and Sorin’s gaze homed in on the low-slung shadows where he knew the Necaz would be appearing. He emitted a low, feral growl, warning the evil on the other side of the gates that he was outside and would protect her at any cost.

She had no idea what she was doing or unleashing.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

Stumbling down the steps, the woman was practically white as she looked back at the mausoleum in terror. She flung herself back from the stone crypt to collapse behind another dark monument. The iron gates that guarded the tomb continued to move, creaking and moaning.

Sorin’s blood began to rush through his veins as he absorbed her terror and tears. They gave him power, but still he had to wait. Her feelings tormented his body; everything she experienced, he felt. It was difficult, but he couldn’t be distracted from his purpose. He silenced his mind and began to adjust, putting her fear aside, focusing on his duty.

Would he be forced to show himself?

A cold, misting rain had started to drizzle down, and a white fog was settling in around the stones and mausoleum. It was thick, soupy, almost suffocating the entire ground and stones as it rose up like an ocean tide. She’d disappeared under the wave of white when she’d flung herself down the steps into the graveyard below.

Sorin moved forward now, knowing that the Necaz was making a move. The fog parted as he raced toward the crypt, his senses keen and penetrating. He drove the wet thickness back, not allowing the evil, reaching fingers of the Necaz to get to her.

He found her slumped next to the weather-beaten tombstone of an “Errol Sullivan,” the headstone blackened by moss and mold in the harsh elements. There was a smattering of blood on the edge of the marker where she’d obviously slipped and hit her head. Her eyes were closed, her skin devoid of color, and her hair wet from the rain.

Sorin kneeled beside her, then lifted her slight weight against him to still her shivering. As he raced away from the mausoleum, something launched itself hard between his shoulder blades. It was the Necaz. A thin, vicious path of pain ran between Sorin’s shoulders and continued down his spine. There was no choice but to stop. Turning, he summoned his power, facing the death creeper that was barely visible in the night. Heat bled from his eyes while he growled out a fierce warning. He relaxed a bit as the evil retreated toward the tomb. The fog pulled back from his legs, and the danger receded, so he resumed carrying her away from the tomb.

It would lie in wait. How long it would wait, Sorin had no idea, but that was his problem. Not that of the innocent woman who lay unconscious in his arms, with no idea of the danger she was in. He needed to protect her.

A quick glance down at her, and the vibrations started. Sorin felt the stirrings, a sexual awakening inside his body that grew stronger with every step he took. She shook with cold and moaned, burrowing deeper into his arms, seeking heat—and maybe something more.

Sorin strode toward his home, his only concerns for the woman he carried and the Necaz that injured her. He surveyed the area around the small caretaker’s cottage, making sure nothing lurked there to surprise him. His senses tingled, but not with danger. It was the awakening, taking hold of him with an alarming need.

His blood pounded, his heart pumping erratically while his body became damp. He clenched his teeth, trying to control the awakening, but his cock hardened within the confines of his jeans. His mouth salivated; he wanted to taste her lips. He had to take a moment and lean heavily on the side of his cottage, trying to catch his breath.

What the hell was going on with him? He needed to take care of this woman, make sure she wasn’t hurt seriously, yet his body was betraying him. What he wanted to do to her was sinful.

After kicking open the front door, he entered the cottage.

The thirst to feed tore at his insides now, and Sorin dumped her on the couch, needing some distance, before he did something he’d regret. He threw a quilt over her in case she’d caught a chill, and then he moved back into the shadows of the small keeping room, trying to get control of himself.

This had never happened to him before. He’d never experienced a lack of control or a level of attraction so strong. He was always in control. The awakening surged hard, and Sorin felt helpless against it.

Space, he needed more space.