My Blood To Rise by Paula Paradis

Chapter One
    “Stupid phone!”
    Dara Lachance tossed it into her handbag and slumped down on a bench facing a pond in Central Park. Not even the moonlight reflecting off the water made her feel better.
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    To her surprise, there was a man sitting beside her. He had one leg crossed over his knee, and one arm draped over the back of the bench. His accent was foreign: Eastern European, Dara guessed.
    Though Central Park had a reputation for criminal activity at night, Dara had decided to cut through on her way home from the bar where she’d had a few drinks with her co-workers. Her apartment was too close to bother with a cab. There were quite a few other people on the paths, and she hadn’t felt like she was in any danger.
    The man on the bench didn’t look threatening, but he had an air of confidence about him.
    Dara looked down at her handbag. “The battery keeps dying. A full charge doesn’t even last a day.”
    “You should get a new phone,” the man said with a firm nod.
    Dara gave him a closer look.
    His brown hair hung down past his ears, and stubble covered the lower part of his face. The top of the beard cut across his angular cheek bones.
    He wore a suit without a tie. The top buttons were undone, and Dara could see his chest. He obviously worked out. A white shirt hung tightly around his slender waist. Instead of dress shoes, he wore boots with toes that came to a sharp point.
    The instant she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t pull herself away. In that instant, his gaze caught her and held her; she was a fly in a spider web. His essence flowed into her brain and sent her head spinning.
    Suddenly, she felt self-conscious. What did he think of her? She’d worn a low-cut shirt; was her cleavage too trampy? Was her brown hair too boring? Maybe he preferred blondes. She might be too curvy for him, too. He might like his women skinny.
    An undercurrent of power radiated from him that burned her with its heat. She could barely stand the intensity of his presence.
    She tore her eyes away, and felt herself returning to normal. Whatever sensations she had experienced vanished.
    He seemed to look at her with renewed interest. “I haven’t seen you around before. What are you doing out in the middle of the night? Don’t you have a boyfriend who could walk you home?”
    She stared at him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
    He shrugged. “I just wondered why a beautiful girl like you was wandering around the park alone at night. Some creep might try to pick you up.”
    “Is that what you are?” she asked.
    He smiled. “I’m not a creep, and I’m not trying to pick you up.”
    “Oh? Then what are you doing here? Do you come here often?” she asked, then flushed.
    He laughed. “That’s quite the turnaround. Now, it sounds like you’re trying to pick me up.”
    Dara stammered, “I wasn’t trying to pick you up. I don’t even know you.”
    “Maybe not,” he said, “but if you don’t have a boyfriend, you might want to pick me up.”
    “Why would I do that?” she asked, blinking.
    “Because you want me,” he replied, his voice suddenly low and intense. She couldn’t tell if he was acting or being serious.
    “Me—want you?” Dara snorted. She had plenty of experience deflecting unwanted advances. “That’s a laugh.”
    His smile faded. “I’m not laughing.”
    “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day. I don’t want you to get any ideas.” She wondered why she was still sitting there; she should just get up and go home.
    “I didn’t say you wanted me,” he countered. “I said you might want to pick me up if you did want me. If you don’t want me, then don’t pick me up.”
    She stared at him. His reasoning made no sense.
    But one thought kept nagging at her. She did want him. That feeling she had earlier about him came back, and she realized she never wanted anyone like this in her life. Something was pulling her toward him. Why else hadn’t she