“The bite on your neck makes you mine. It’s a no-return policy.”

Then he appeared to come back to his senses. His face relaxed and his eyebrows knitted together into a frown as he reached toward me. I scurried back out of his range, eyes wide, pressing my hand against my stinging cheek.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he sputtered as he moved closer to me. “I didn’t mean to do that. What the hell was I thinking?”

I wrapped my other hand around the cool can of pepper spray at the very bottom of my purse. My eyes were still unfocused, but I managed to yank the can out and spray him long and hard in the eyes. He howled in pain and clawed at his face. I turned on my heels and did what any self-respecting girl with a neck wound does when she finds herself in a cemetery after midnight with a crazy guy who thinks he’s a vampire. Ran like hell. Crazy. Yup. Definitely bipolar, and very likely in need of some serious therapy. It was probably something that happened to him in childhood that had turned him into such a loon. I’d minored in psychology during the year I spent at the University of Toronto before dropping out. Loony. That was the professional verdict. In serious need of help. Just like I was at the moment. I ran through the cemetery. Big cemetery. Where the hell was the road? Finally I saw the stone entry gates straight ahead of me. I heard Gordon, not that far behind, yelling for me to slow down. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Not bloody likely. The three-inch heel on one of my black leather sling-backs chose that moment to snap off. Those shoes had cost me the better part of last month’s paycheck, so it was a little disappointing, to say the least, that they couldn’t take a little pressure. I crashed to the ground in a heap, but sprang up just as quickly, like one of those Bozo the Clown punching bags. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was definitely helpful, but I felt lightheaded. The loss of blood from the bite on my neck was finally catching up to me. Maybe it was more serious than I’d originally thought. I pulled off what was left of the shoe, spun around, and threw it in the direction of my pursuer.