Free Night's Pleasure by Amanda Ashley Page A

curiosity, but he needed to know the answer.
    Murmuring Savanah’s name, he trapped her gaze with his. “Listen to me,” he said. “I’m going to ask you a question, one you will forget as soon as you tell me the answer. Do you understand?”
    She stared at him, unblinking. “Yes.”
    â€œDid your mother ever hunt Vampires?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you certain?”
    â€œYes.”
    Releasing his hold on her mind, he said, “You must miss her very much.”
    Savanah blinked at him a moment, then nodded. “Every day,” she replied wistfully.
    Rane felt a sharp stab of guilt. His mother was alive—he could visit her any time he wished—but he hadn’t seen her, or anyone else in his family, in decades.
    Pushing the thought aside, he followed Savanah outside, waited while she locked the front door, then walked her to his car. He held the door open for her, then went around to the driver’s side. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life.
    The car reminded Savanah of the man—sleek and sexy and way out of her league.
    â€œDoes it hurt?” she asked abruptly.
    Rane glanced at her, one brow lifted. “Does what hurt?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb.
    â€œWhen you shift into the wolf. Does it hurt?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhere does your clothing go?”
    He looked at her a moment, and then he laughed. “Beats the heck out of me.” It was a good question. Werewolves had to disrobe before they changed or risk shredding their shoes and clothing. He had never before wondered what happened to his own attire when he shifted.
    â€œWhy do you change names so often?”
    He shrugged. “Boredom?”
    â€œAnd how do you just…” She lifted one hand and let it fall. “Just disappear?”
    â€œAh, now, that’s a secret,” he said with a wink.
    â€œDoes it have to do with shape-shifting?”
    â€œHey, we’re on a date,” he reminded her. “No more questions unless they’re of a personal nature.”
    â€œPersonal, huh? Like, do you wear plain old white cotton boxers or sexy briefs?” Savanah clapped her hand over her mouth, unable to believe she had uttered the words out loud.
    Rane waggled his eyebrows at her. “Or maybe nothing at all,” he said with a wicked grin.
    â€œI didn’t mean…Just forget I said that!”
    â€œOh, I don’t think so,” Rane said, chuckling.
    He pulled into the parking lot a few moments later, sparing her the necessity of coming up with a retort.
    Rane bought their tickets and they went into the theater. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of buttered popcorn, nachos, and hot dogs.
    Being a gentleman, he asked Savanah if she wanted anything to eat or drink, relieved when all she asked for was a small Coke.
    There were only a dozen or so people in the theater when they took their seats.
    â€œHardly seems worth running the film,” Savanah remarked, looking around.
    Rane grunted softly. “I hope the small crowd is due to the late hour and not because the movie stinks.”
    â€œWell, I heard it was good,” Savanah said, and then shrugged. “Of course, you never know about critics.”
    â€œYeah, I rarely agree with the reviews.”
    â€œI know what you mean,” Savanah said, then sat back as the lights dimmed and the previews started.
    Rane tried to concentrate on the trailers but it was difficult. He was all too aware of the people in the theater, and particularly aware of the woman beside him. Her scent filled his nostrils. Her nearness stirred his desire and his hunger. He could hear the steady beat of her heart, as well as the heartbeats of other people sitting nearby. It took a great deal of effort to shut out the siren call of all those beating hearts, to close his mind to the scent of prey. It was easier when he was performing on