...Hands in his pockets, he faced the set table. Before Kat’s eyes, all of the silverware—two sets of knives, forks and spoons—rose straight into the air. They all came together about a foot below the pierced-brass chandelier to form a kind of horizontal wheel.

The formation started to rotate slowly in mid-air.

The sight riveted Kat, and for a minute she couldn’t breathe. Finally she gasped out, “Stop it!”

The bits of silverware separated and, with a playful clatter, all dropped back to their rightful places.

She spun around to stare at Sharpay. “Jesus Christ, what are you?”

“Not him, by a long shot.” Still wearing the faint smile, Sharpay approached her. Kat realized he blocked her route to the hall door, and with his abilities, she didn’t see much hope of dodging past him.

Meanwhile, he spoke soothingly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I thought you’d be amused! I take my gifts so much for granted, I forget how startling they can be to other people.” He had reached her now. With one large hand, he stroked the side of her face, then turned it up toward his.

She met his eyes. At the centers of those dark irises, the pupils glowed faintly red. Kat caught her breath again, but couldn’t look away. Those lights flickered like flames and lulled her. Soon, she wasn’t afraid any more, just curious…mesmerized.

Sharpay’s chill fingers brushed the side of her throat, and where they passed, the flesh went numb, as if swabbed with an anesthetic. He drew aside the V neckline of her sweater to bare her collarbone and the rise just above her left breast. His other arm slipped behind the small of her back to brace her firmly. She felt his cool lips glide over her exposed skin, spreading the same tingling numbness.

She hardly minded the razor-sharp pinch.

It didn’t compare to what came next.

A powerful force pulled the energy out of her. She knew she must be losing blood, but even that couldn’t be enough to explain this terrible sensation of life draining from her body. She could feel Sharpay’s hunger and intense pleasure as he fed upon her, drawing out something he needed, something that went beyond any physical substance.

At the back of her mind, Kat knew she should try to fight back, but both her body and her will seemed paralyzed. Her heart pounded faster, desperate to make up the loss of blood. She started to slip down into a dark vortex, the room swirling around her. She knew she would have collapsed to the floor, if not for the iron arm holding her.

At the same time, her belly stirred with another sensation—half sexual, half suicidal—to surrender and let him have as much of her as he needed.

It seemed an hour before she felt Sharpay, with difficulty, tear himself away. Released from his grip, Kat tottered and saw stars. He pulled up one of the straight-backed dining chairs and sat her in it.

He left her briefly. Slumped, head spinning, she heard him rummaging in her cabinets. He came back with a juice glass half-filled with a pale gold, acrid-smelling liquid. “Drink this.”

Kat obeyed. The brandy seared her throat until she coughed, but then she drank some more. In a minute, warmth began to seep back into her depleted veins.

Stooped over her, Sharpay pressed a finger against the spot he had bitten. At first Kat thought he was staunching the wound, but then realized he was taking her pulse.

“Much better,” he murmured, in a clinical tone.

She glanced up at him. No trace of blood showed on his lips, and as she watched, the sharpness of his canine teeth reverted to normal. The red light also left his eyes. His face had recovered a healthier color and his hair had darkened again, with silver only at the temples.

He spoke to her now in a cold, crisp tone. “After I leave, eat some of the dinner you’ve prepared and go to bed. You’ll have the weekend to recover. If you have to cancel any activities, make up a plausible excuse. You will come to my house again Monday night. Do you understand?”

Still dazed as a sleepwalker, Kat could only nod.