She had hoped her folks would spend the summer with her, but trouble at the Fortress had drawn them home. It wasn’t always easy, having a father who was the Master of the Carpathian Coven. Sometimes, as now, his duties could not be ignored. Usually, her uncle Andrei handled things at the Fortress, but whatever the emergency had been, it had required her father’s attention, which meant that her mother had gone, as well. To her knowledge, her parents rarely spent more than a few hours apart.
Kaitlyn sighed as she removed her sweater and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Someday, she hoped to find a man who would adore her the way her father adored her mother. A man who would live and die for her. A man she couldn’t live without.
Picking up her suitcases, she carried them into the first bedroom and tossed them on the bed. This room was done in varying shades of green, with billowy white lace curtains. The twin windows looked out over a sparkling blue lake.
Kaitlyn shook her head. How was she ever going to express her gratitude for the love and kindness her parents had showered upon her? She had thanked them on numerous occasions in the past, but words seemed woefully inadequate. She knew they hadn’t been altogether pleased with her decision to remain in California after she graduated from college, but they had accepted it without argument.
Feeling a little homesick, she opened the larger suitcase and began to unpack. Her folks had always treated her like a princess, but then, maybe that was natural, since she had been raised in an old stone castle in the heart of Romania.
She smiled as she hung her clothes in the closet.
All she needed now was a prince.
Chapter 2
Zackary Ravenscroft strolled through the main floor of the casino, stopping now and then to chat with one of the customers, pausing to answer a question here, to address a complaint there. He loved owning a nightclub, loved the excitement that filled the air, the rush of adrenaline that fired the blood of the patrons, the fact that no two nights were ever the same.
Zack had built the casino ten years ago, simply because he was bored and thought it would be a nice distraction. It was one of the best decisions he had made in the last six hundred years. Not only did the casino provide a hefty income, but the constant change in customers assured a steady supply of women. And Zack loved women—all women. Old or young, ugly or pretty, smart or not so smart, black, white, red, brown, yellow—it made no difference. He loved them all. And they loved him in every way imaginable.
Leaving the gaming tables behind, he strolled up and down the aisles of slot machines. He stopped a moment to watch an elderly woman playing one of the old dollar slots. From her shabby appearance, she appeared to be down on her luck and most likely using the last of her money in a desperate hope of hitting it big. He had seen it all before. Usually, he had no sympathy for those who plunked down their last five bucks in hopes of winning a fortune on the turn of a card. Sure, it happened from time to time, but no matter what the game, the odds were always with the house.
The old lady was muttering under her breath.
It took Zack a minute to realize she wasn’t cursing but praying.
He frowned as he listened to the urgency of her words, heard the unshed tears in her voice as she sent a desperate plea toward Heaven.
Zack grunted softly. Her husband was sick. He needed an operation, and medication they could no longer afford. She had lost her job. They couldn’t pay the rent.
She needed a miracle.
Murmuring a breathless “Amen,” she shoved her remaining three dollars into the machine, then clasped her hands to her breast.
With a bemused shake of his head, Zack concentrated on the wheels of the slot machine.
One gold bar.
Two.
Three.
Smiling, Zack moved on as the machine lit up and bells and whistles went off, signaling that a player had hit the ten-thousand-dollar jackpot. So, he had lost ten grand, he thought, but it wasn’t much to pay for a miracle.
He was still smiling when he stepped outside. It was a beautiful night. Cool and crisp. A few scattered clouds drifted across the face of the full moon.
Feeling suddenly restless, he wandered away from the casino, crossed the parking lot, and headed for the wooded hillside that began just beyond the blacktop.
He moved soundlessly through the underbrush, his keen senses aware of the tiny night creatures that scented a predator and quickly scurried out of his way. He caught the scent of a skunk and farther on, that of a deer.
Nearing one of the cabins, he came across a black bear scavenging through a trash can. The bear reared up on its hind legs and sniffed the wind. Apparently recognizing Zack as a threat, the animal dropped back down on all fours and lumbered into the trees.
Grinning, Zack continued on until he came to the solitary cabin at the top of the hill. He paused, surprised to see there were lights on in the house. The cabin had been vacant for the last two years. He had, in fact, been thinking of buying the place for a rental.
Ah, well, too late now.
He was turning away when he caught the scent of prey. Glancing back, he saw a young woman looking out the front window. He whistled softly. He had seen a lot of beautiful women in his day, but this one—he shook his head. She was beyond beautiful. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her eyes a deep dark blue. Hair the color of a raven’s wing tumbled over her shoulders.
He frowned when her gaze found his, and then shook his head. She couldn’t see him, of course. He was hidden by the darkness. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew he was there, that she was staring at him, as he was staring at her.
Curious to see her reaction, he stepped out of the darkness into a shaft of bright moonlight.
He had expected her to gasp in surprise, call 911, or hastily move away from the window and close the curtains. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her gaze moving over him from head to heel, much the way he studied a woman he was considering as prey.
Zack was contemplating what to do next when she moved away from the window. Moments later, she was standing on the front porch, her arms folded under her br**sts.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Her voice was low, soft, and yet he detected a fine layer of steel underneath. He grunted softly. Most women would have been frightened if they looked out their window at midnight and found a stranger standing in the yard. But she wasn’t the least bit afraid.
He had to admire that. Inclining his head, he murmured, “Good evening.”
She lifted one delicate brow. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”
“Merely enjoying the night air,” he replied with a smile. “And I repeat, good evening.” He frowned, mystified by his inability to read her mind. It was a skill that had never failed him before and left him wondering if she was deliberately blocking him, and if so, how?