Bolting from the chair, Jason ran into the bedroom, ready to do battle with Satan himself if need be. But there was no one in the room except Leanne, tossing restlessly on the bed.

Her hair spread across the pillows like chocolate silk. She'd thrown the covers off, and the gown's full skirt pooled around her thighs, offering him a beguiling glimpse of shapely calves.

Another cry was torn from her throat, and he saw a tear slip down her cheek.

Before he quite realized what he was doing, Jason was at her side, gathering her into his arms.

"Hush, love," he murmured. "It's only a dream, only a bad dream."

"Jason?"

"I'm here."

She burrowed her face into his shoulder. "It was awful," she said, her voice husky with sleep. "I was dreaming about tonight, but it was worse, much worse." She drew back, her gaze seeking his. "They shot you."

He shook his head. "No."

"Yes! I saw it so clearly. It couldn't have been a dream."

"But it was," he said reassuringly. "Look." He lifted his shirt so she could see his chest. "You see? No bullet holes."

"But I saw it, I heard the gunshots?"

He drew her head to his chest and rocked her gently. "Go back to sleep, Leanne. Everything's fine."

"Is it?" She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "You feel so cold."

Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, willing her to relax, to sleep, to forget.

"I love you, Jason," she murmured drowsily. "Please don't leave me again."

He closed his eyes, her words pouring over him like hot August sunshine. She loved him.

It was a dream come true.

It was his worst nightmare.

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise you'll never leave me."

Ah,Leanne, my love, if you only knew what you were asking of me. If you only knew how your nearness torments and tempts me.

She pulled back a little so she could see his face, her eyes searching his. "You don't love me, do you?"

He looked away, unable to bear the sight of the pain that shimmered in the depths of her eyes. Love her, he thought, if only he didn't!

A single tear slipped down her cheek. It was his undoing.

"I do love you, Leanne." The words were wrenched from the depths of his soul. "Please, do not weep. I cannot bear the sight of your tears."

"You mean it?"

"I swear it by all that I hold dear."

"Oh, Jason!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, kissed him until they were both breathless.

She was fire and honey in his arms. All his senses came alive until he was drunk with the taste of her lips, the scent of her flesh, the sound of her whispered endearments. He felt his body grow hard. The need to nourish himself with the very essence of her life burned through him, as potent, as strong, as his desire for her flesh.

He groaned deep in his throat as her body molded itself to his. Her tongue laved the lobe of his ear, his neck; her hands explored the length and breadth of his back and shoulders, then boldly traced the outline of his thigh.

"Leanne." He caught her hands in his and willed his body to relax, knowing that in another moment his desire and his lust for blood would be impossible to control.

"It's all right," she said, her eyes shining with love and trust. "I want you to make love to me."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Why, why? What possible excuse could he give her? "I don't have any? any?" Hell's bells, what did they call those things, anyway?

"I don't care."

He summoned a tight smile. "I do."

"I don't have any diseases, Jason," she said quietly. "I've never been with a man before."

He felt his self-control hovering on the brink of collapse. "All the more reason why we should wait."

Maybe he was right, she thought, though she couldn't help being disappointed. Her mother had always taught her that good girls didn't "do it" until they were married. Her father, a wise and solemn man blessed with the gift of foresight, had warned her that, should she let herself be defiled before marriage, her life would be at great risk. When she had asked him to explain, he had taken her in his arms and told her that he'd had a most disturbing vision of her future, a vision in which he had seen her surrounded by darkness and danger, protected only by her innocence, and then he had warned her that, should she give herself to the wrong man, she risked the chance of being forever cursed.

Thinking of that now, she was ashamed of her own weakness and doubly grateful for Jason's self-control.

"If I promise to behave, do you think you could stay with me until I fall asleep?"

With a nod he drew the covers up to her chin, then sat beside her, her hand cradled in his.

She smiled up at him and then, tucking his free hand under her cheek, she closed her eyes.

He sat with her until he felt the nearness of a new day and then, regretfully, he left the room.

In the kitchen he wrote her a note, saying he had been called to work early, and that he'd see her that night after the show. He invited her to stay the day if she liked, or to take his car if she wished to go home. He dropped the keys on top of the note, and then, his steps growing heavier by the moment, he made his way down to the basement.

He closed the door behind him, slipped the bolt into place, then wrapped himself in the quilt and closed his eyes.


* * *


Leanne woke with a smile on her face. Jason loved her. She stretched, feeling as contented as a cat. He loved her.

And she couldn't wait to see him. Bounding out of bed, she hurried out of the room. She expected to find him in the kitchen, and when he wasn't there, she checked the other bedroom. It, too, was empty.

Shrugging, she went back into the kitchen. She'd fix something to eat, shower, and then go home. It was then she saw the note.

She read it quickly and then, clutching the slip of paper in her hand, she glanced around the kitchen. She had hoped to cook breakfast for Jason. It would have been the first day they spent together, and she wanted to share the morning with him before he went to work.

With an effort she shrugged off her disappointment. If she was going to be in love with a cop, this was the kind of thing she'd have to get used to. Policemen were on call twenty-four hours a day. They missed birthday parties, and Christmas morning, and anniversaries. They worked long hours for little pay. And these days, when law officers were being maligned and criticized more than ever, a cop needed the support of his loved ones.

Crossing the floor, she opened one of the cupboards. It was empty. So was the next one, and the next. Frowning, she opened the refrigerator. Nothing.

Leanne shook her head. She could understand if he never cooked, but she'd expected him to at least have coffee in the house, a loaf of bread, salt and pepper.

Puzzled, she went into the bedroom and opened the closet. It was reassuring, somehow, to see his clothes hanging there, to see several pairs of shoes and boots in a neat row on the floor.

After getting dressed, she wandered through the house again. There were no personal items to be found; no photos, no mementos. If not for his clothes and the hundreds of books in the den, she'd wonder if this were truly his house.

With a shake of her head she picked up his keys and left the house. He could answer her questions tonight; in the meantime, she had some shopping to do.


* * *


He felt her stirring in the house above. Even though he was trapped in the daylight sleep of death, he could feel her presence as she moved from room to room, feel her confusion when she realized there was nothing in the house to eat. He should have thought of that, but then, he hadn't planned to see her again, to bring her here again.

Leanne. Leanne.Her name whispered through the sluggishness of his mind. He yearned to go to her, but his body, held prisoner by the daylight, refused to obey. Trapped in darkness, he willed the sun to hurry across the sky.


* * *


Leanne stood in the wings, peeking out at the audience during intermission. She felt her heart skip a beat when she found him. He was sitting in the fifth row, center section.

How handsome he was! His dark jacket complimented his hair; the pale blue shirt brought out the color of his eyes. Her gaze moved lovingly over his face, the width of his shoulders. He seemed to be in a world apart as he sat there. People milled around, waiting for the second act, laughing and talking, making their way to the front to look into the orchestra pit. She saw several girls talking to the bassoon player. He was a nice guy, funny and outgoing, and seemed to know everyone.

She took her place behind stage as the house lights dimmed and the second act began. Soon, soon she'd be with him.

Jason sat forward, lost in the Phantom's anguish as he told Christine she must make a choice between himself and Raoul.

And then Christine's voice, pure and beautiful, filled the auditorium, her words of pity melting the hatred in the Phantom's heart.

He felt the aching loneliness that engulfed the Phantom as he watched Christine leave with Raoul, and he wondered what Leanne would do if she knew the man she loved was truly a creature of darkness. Would she look at him with loathing, the love in her clear, green eyes turning to revulsion? Would she flee from his presence, disgusted by the memory of his kisses?

He had felt the lingering sense of her presence when he left the basement earlier that night. Her scent had filled the empty rooms of his house. Her presence had been everywhere. She had placed vases of fresh flowers in the living room and kitchen, there was food in the refrigerator, food that he couldn't eat, and a bar of perfumed soap in the bathroom. She'd left a change of clothes on the bed in his bedroom, and a note that said she'd fix him a midnight snack after the show. He had found a rented video tape on top of the television.

A mirthless grin had curved his lips when he saw the title:Dracula starring Frank Langella. She seemed to have a fondness for vampire movies, he mused ruefully, and, though she didn't know it, for vampires, as well.

Now, sitting in the theater, listening to the applause that thundered through the auditorium as Davis Gaines received a standing ovation, Jason forced himself to admit that, just as the Phantom had let Christine go because he loved her, so he would have to let Leanne go. He could not hide his identity from her forever, and he did not trust himself to go on seeing her without hurting her, without turning her into a creature as wretched as himself.

Just one night, he thought. Let him have just one night to hold her and love her, and then he would let her go.

He lifted his gaze to the stage, focusing on her face as she stood in the background. Her eyes were bright, her lips parted in a smile that was his and his alone.

Just one night, he thought again, one night to last for eternity.

Heavyhearted, he left the theater and went to wait for her at the stage door.