He found himself smiling at her teasing. He never smiled. Not for six hundred...

He found himself smiling at her teasing. He never smiled. Not for six hundred years or more. He waited for her laughter again, needing it with the same craving an addict felt for a drug.
When it came, it was low and amused, as caressing as the touch of fingers on his skin. He had a fix on her now, a direction. She would not get away from him. He drawled it deliberately, anticipating her reaction. He loved the sound of her laughter, savored it, took it into his body. He felt her drowsiness, her yawn. So much the better. He sent her a light mental push, very delicate, wanting her to sleep so he could examine her. Her reaction was a quick withdrawal, hurt, suspicion. She retreated, slamming up a mind block so swiftly, he was astonished at how adept she was, how strong for one so young, strong for a human. And she was human. He was certain of it. He knew without looking that he had exactly five hours till sunrise. Not that he couldn't take the early or late sunlight. He tested her block, careful not to alarm her. A faint smile touched his well-cut mouth. She was strong, but not nearly strong enough.