Dawn sat on a tan suede sofa in the family room sandwiched between her mother and Rebekah. Her father was sitting on the other side of her mother, his lips set in a grim line. Even though the local news was in commercials, his steel-blue eyes remained focused on the large television screen in front of them, giving the impression that he was lost in thought.

"So, honestly, how has it been having Michael here?" Johanna asked Rebekah.

The older sister shrugged. "It hasn't been that bad, I suppose. He doesn't socialize with Nathaniel or me very often, but the times he has, he's been decent towards us. Still, it's hard for me to fully trust him. The girls are too young, but I remember what he did back in seventy-eight. It doesn't matter how decent he treats us; it will never change the fact that he is a ruthless killer."

Johanna nodded in understanding. "That's why Derek is having such difficult time with this. He wants to do what's best for the girls, yet he is also a man of the law."

Dawn studied her father, who was still staring at the television. She suddenly felt guilty for never taking into consideration the toll this entire situation was taking on her parents. Her father, especially, looked particularly weary.

"Well, if it's any consolation, Michael does care for both girls," Rebekah said, "and I do trust that he would never harm them."

Dawn instinctively touched her neck where the tip of Michael's knife had wounded it. She was certain no one else would have been able to stop the Boogeyman from killing them just by shouting out his name. That in itself was enough to prove that he valued her life. However, what had sealed the deal was the sincerity in his expression when he had promised her that he would do everything in his power to protect her from the man who had murdered and raped the other blonde girl.

In contrast, his fiancé's expression had been impossible to read. If she had been angry about the threat to Dawn's life, then the brunette had kept it very well concealed.

"Speaking of the girls," Derek said, turning his head away from the television, "how is Karen doing?"

"Karen?" Johanna asked, both sounding and looking surprise. "Derek, for once this isn't about her. It's your daughter's livelihood that is being threatened, not hers."

"Yes, but I don't have to worry about Dawn going out and killing the man responsible for this heinous crime," the cop replied. "I need to know what Karen's state of mind is right now."

"She's fine, Dad," the blonde teenager quickly assured him. "She wasn't the one furious about the news of the girl; Michael was. In fact, after he talked to us, he immediately left to go hunting."

"And Karen stayed with you?"

Dawn nodded. "Up until I took my shower. Then, she went to find Michael." Her pale eyes suddenly narrowed. "You don't think she'd really go after this guy, do you?"

Derek shrugged. "It's hard to say, Dawn. I'll know more once I see her."

He didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later the engaged couple strolled into the family room. During her time away, Karen had exchanged her gray sweatshirt and blue jeans for a forest-green wool sweater and a pair of black jeans. Yet, it was the killer's transformation that Dawn openly gaped at, her heart fluttering slightly. When he caught her gaze, she instantly cast her eyes to her parents and said, "Mom, Dad, may I introduce to you Michael Myers. Michael these are my parents Derek and Johanna Johnson."

Despite their mixed feelings about him, her parents rose to their feet to greet the killer. Her father even went so far as to offer him a handshake. Michael stared at the cop's hand for a long moment but then firmly returned the cordial gesture.

"Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter," Derek graciously said. "My wife and I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," the killer replied. He took a small step back, allowing the cop to address Karen next.

She and Derek regarded each other, each not muttering a word. Finally, he broke the awkward silence by saying, "It's good to see you again, kiddo."

The brunette teenager stiffly nodded. "You, too, Mr. Johnson."

After a few more quiet moments passed, he reached down into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a silver key. "Since we wanted to leave Haddonfield undetected, we took your car," he explained. "This, kiddo, belongs to you."

Dawn's eyes immediately darted to Michael. She prayed he would intercept the key as her father handed it to Karen. Although a hint of concern flickered over the killer's features, he remained completely stationary, much to the blonde girl's dismay.

"Thanks," Karen muttered, impassively slipping the key into her coin pocket. Then, she sat down on a love seat by the window and simply stared out the glass.

Michael remained standing, his gaze shifting from his lover to Derek. "Have there been any new developments in the case since this morning?" he asked.

Dawn glanced over at Karen, hurt by the lack of interest her best friend was showing.

"Sort of," the cop replied. "The victim's name hasn't been released, yet, but a girl named Bonnie Davis was reported missing by her parents very early this morning, and her description matches that of the victim's. Bonnie was eighteen and attended classes at College of Lake County's lakeshore campus, which isn't too far from here."

Michael nodded, his obsidian eyes traveling back to Karen, who was still looking out the window. "Do they have any leads as to who might have killed the girl?"

Derek gave his head a deliberate nod. "They have one so far. A manager of a motel said he saw a man carrying someone out of one of the rooms early this morning, but the manager claimed it was too dark to see exactly what was going on. However, the police and forensic units are at the motel conducting investigations as we speak. I'll keep you updated on their findings."

"I would appreciate that," said Michael, "though I think we'll find out who the killer is soon enough."

"I'm assuming you plan to wait for him here, then?" Johanna voiced.

Michael turned to face her. "Considering none of us knows the man's identity, I believe waiting for him here is the most logical approach to take. Do you not agree?"

"I suppose so," she reluctantly concurred. "I just don't like the fact that you're using my daughter as bait."

Before Michael could respond, the telephone rang. Rebekah took the liberty of answering it. "Helms residence," There was a slight pause until she said, "One moment please." She placed a palm over the mouthpiece and eyed Dawn. "It's for you, though you may want to use the phone in the study. This line is a little fuzzy."

Ignoring the confused looks she received from her parents, Dawn rose to her feet, instantly knowing who was on the line. "Thanks, Aunt Rebekah," she replied. "I won't be long." She exited the family room and hurried to the study. As soon as she picked up the cordless phone, her aunt hung up on the other end.

"Hello, Mark," she cordially greeted, glad that he cared enough about her to call.

"Hello, Dawn," he said, his tone sounding rather distant. "How are you doing?"

She sat down at her uncle's desk. "I'm all right, I guess. Thanks for asking."

"Nathaniel told me that your parents are visiting."

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Michael invited them here."

"Well, that being the case, then I'm going to cancel our date for tomorrow," he coolly stated.

The teenager's heart dropped. "What?" she gasped. "No, please don't do that, Mark. Please. I need you so badly right now."

"Dawn, listen to me," he commanded. "I am not interested in meeting your parents, and I am definitely not going to fuck you with them around."

"Then I'll sneak out," she desperately told him.

"And risk Michael's wrath?" he asked. "I don't think so."

"Mark—"

"I'm sorry, Dawn, but I have to go. I'll call you again once your parents leave, all right?"

"Okay," she relented. "Bye, Mark."

"Good-bye, Dawn."

The finality in Mark's tone brought tears to the teenager's eyes. Was their relationship over already? She supposed she could understand why he wouldn't want to meet her parents, but ending their relationship now just made her feel used. She had given him her virginity and let him fuck her with the idea that they would be together for at least a few months. How could she have been so naïve?

Dawn set the receiver down and wrapped her arms around her body, her tears now becoming hard sobs. How could she face Michael or Karen knowing that they both had been right about Mark? She regretted giving him her virginity, just as Karen had warned. The brunette hadn't been speaking out of malice but with genuine concern. Dawn felt like such a fool.

Then, without giving it a second thought, she ran out of her uncle's study and to the foyer. After yanking her jacket from the coat rack, she dashed outside. The teenager wasn't sure how long it would take for Michael to sense she was gone, so she ran pell-mell from the mansion without any particular destination in mind. Running just felt so good—freeing almost.

Hyped on adrenaline and desperately wanting to be alone, Dawn opened the front gate and fled into the woods across the street. A small voice inside her head told her it was ludicrous to run from the man who had vowed to protect her, but the teenager kept her steady pace until a painful stitch in her side finally made her stop for a short break.

Breathing hard, the teenager sat down on a log. She listened carefully for any sound that would imply that she was being followed. However, all she heard was bird songs and the occasional rap of a woodpecker as it hunted for insects in a nearby tree. She looked up searching for the bird when someone roughly grabbed a hold of her hair from behind and painfully pulled her backwards onto the ground. As she began releasing a scream for help, another hand tightly clamped down over her mouth. She instantly felt something small slide down her throat. Then, a man's face filled her vision as he moved to straddle her.

The blonde girl fought with all her might to break free from her attacker, but his earth-brown eyes simply stared down at her coldly while she continued to struggle against him. He didn't say anything to her. He just watched as though he was waiting for something to happen.

Dawn knew she had been drugged, and it didn't take long before she started feeling the effects of it. As her mind and body surrendered to the drug, she became acutely aware of the man's erection pressing down on her belly. She slowly moved her hand to that spot, touching him through his jeans. He lowered his gaze, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he unzipped his fly, allowing her full access to him. All reasonable thought left Dawn's mind while she rubbed her hand up and down his length. This act of intimacy didn't feel wrong to her at all. On the contrary, she found herself actually enjoying it.

After a few minutes, the sandy-haired man gripped her hair tighter and scooted up her body until his manhood was even with her mouth. She willingly opened her lips wide for him. Scoffing, he steadily pumped in and out of her mouth. Dawn had never tasted a man before, and the experience made her panties uncomfortably wet. Yet, instead of indulging her needs, he simply pushed his manhood back into his pants and stood up. Then, even in her delirious state of mind, he did something that provoked a sense of fear within her.

Still observing her, the man picked up a thick tree branch and brandished a large pocket knife. Once he had carved the tip of the branch into a sharp point, he waved it at her. "Now let's talk about my brother, shall we?"

"Yes, let's," answered a female voice, familiar to Dawn's ears, "but first I want you to move away from my friend, you sick fuck."

The blonde girl gazed passed the man to where Karen was standing. The former had never seen the latter look so angry before. The brunette's eyes were filled with rage and had turned just as black as Michael's.

The man instantly spun around. "You know what happened to him?" he asked, studying Karen hard.

"Yes," she answered, though Dawn was finding it extremely hard to focus on what was being said. Not only was her body still craving sexual release but she was also beginning to feel very groggy. The fatigue, though, quickly overpowered her arousal and within seconds, she fell sound asleep.

Timothy inwardly groaned when the blonde teenager lost consciousness. Although it was the brunette who held the answers to his brother's mysterious disappearance, it didn't extinguish his desire to fuck Blondie. However, he would forgo his plan of torturing her with the tree branch and use it on her friend instead. But first, he had to subdue the brunette without the help of drugs, for he wanted her to be fully aware of her pain and torment. In his eyes, she deserved a horrific demise. "So what did you do to my brother? Kill him?"

The brunette shook her head. "No, I didn't kill him," she replied.

"But he is dead," Timothy stated, knowing he spoke the truth.

The girl nodded. "Yes. He hit on me, and my boyfriend took offense to it."

Timothy scrutinized her for a long moment, his brown eyes slowly widening. "You're David Miller's daughter," he said.

"Yes," the brunette answered, not even bothering to lie.

"Well, if you think that's going to save you, it's not," Timothy promised. "I don't need your father's money anymore. I'm doing well enough on my own now."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "You sicken me," she spat. "Men like you and your brother deserve to die."

Timothy instantly threw himself at the girl and wrestled her to the ground. He then sunk the blade of his pocket knife deep into her side. He muffled her screams with his hand. She continued to scream as he turned the blade sideways, ripping her flesh, causing even more damage.

By the time he finally withdrew his knife and closed it, the brunette was laying lifeless beneath him, hardly breathing. With her successfully subdued, Timothy carelessly tossed the knife aside and crawled over to the blonde girl, his need for her becoming unbearable. He quickly unbuttoned her jeans and was about to bare her womanhood when a dark shadow fell over them. He craned his head back, his eyes widening in shock.

The sheriff's daughter was standing behind him, clutching the carved tree branch securely in her hand. Without a word, she plunged the pointed end of the long stick right through Timothy's chest. The word 'impossible' gurgled from his mouth just before his heart burst underneath the pressure, putting an end to his life.

Once the light left the man's expression, Karen yanked the branch from his body only to drive it back in, this time pinning the corpse to the ground next to Dawn. The brunette's side hurt like hell, and the stab wound was still dripping blood. However, her mission wasn't complete—not yet.

Confident that Michael would find Dawn, Karen continued her journey on foot, relying on pure instinct to guide her footsteps to her destination. When she finally reached the lone farmhouse, she was breathing hard and was beginning to feel weak from blood loss, though her wound was no longer bleeding. She knew her body needed sleep in order to continue the healing process, yet the teenager forced herself to stay awake. This matter could not wait.

She painfully trudged up the front steps and rang the doorbell. A slender man with graying hair answered the door. His features were etched with a fatigue that could only be explained with losing a loved one. "Mr. Davis?" she breathlessly inquired. At his curt nod, she continued. "I know this is a bad time for you, but I really need to speak with you and your wife, if she's available."

The man gave Karen a once over, his blue-green eyes widening when they landed on her torn and bloodied sweater. "Good lord!" he exclaimed. "Are you hurt?"

The brunette nodded, tears of sorrow and guilt now stinging her eyes. "Yes, but it's imperative that I speak to you. Please."

Mr. Davis took pity on her and led her into his home. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" he asked as he helped her into a chair.

"No," Karen firmly answered. "I'll be all right."

Mrs. Davis then came out of the kitchen, her expression laden with grief. "Bill, what's going on?"

"Jess, this is—" The man abruptly stopped speaking and said, "Well, actually I don't know who this is. Are you a friend of Bonnie's?"

The teenager shook her head. "No, I never knew your daughter," she answered. "My name is Karen Miller, and I'm the reason why Bonnie is dead."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Davis stared at her in shocked silence. "I hope you can explain yourself," the light-haired woman said at last.

"I'll do my best," Karen promised while the two adults sat down on a sofa. "It all began when I was eight..."

Jessica Davis intently listened to Karen Miller's life story, her heart going out to the teenager. "So, Bonnie's murderer is dead?" the woman quietly asked once the brunette had stopped speaking.

"Yes."

William shifted slightly. "I still don't understand how you think her death is your fault."

"Don't you see?" Karen miserably asked, on the verge of crying. "The man had come to Waukegan because of me, and now your daughter is dead." Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant for Bonnie to die."

Jessica immediately rose to her feet and tightly embraced the weeping girl. "Of course you didn't, and Bill and I certainly don't blame you for her death." The woman pulled back a little and grasped Karen's hands. "Now, come. You're hurt and exhausted, and you need to rest."

"Thank you for your hospitality," the younger said, "but I can't stay. Michael will be looking for me."

"Listen to my wife, Karen," commanded William. "You're in no condition to leave. I'm sure if your fiancé was here, he'd agree."

Jessica nodded. "And if he comes here looking for you, we'll explain what happened, all right?"

"All right," Karen conceded, "but I doubt he'll be in the mood to listen. I'm sure he's going to be furious with me for leaving without him."

"We'll take that risk," William said. "Now, go."

Jessica helped Karen from the chair and guided her to the guest room. "Here, let's get you out of these clothes. I have an extra nightshirt you can wear." The woman opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a red flannel shirt. Then, she helped the teenager undress, gasping when she saw the wide deep gash in Karen's side. "Good heavens! Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes," the brunette confessed. "A lot, actually, but I'm hoping it will feel better once I get some sleep."

Jessica nodded, now understanding that Karen was truly different from them. A normal human being would have most certainly died after receiving an injury like that, especially without immediate medical attention. "Do you at least want me to wash it out for you? I'd hate for it to get infected."

"Yes, you probably should," agreed Karen.

"Okay. Lay down on the bed, then. I'll be back in a few minutes."

While Jessica was in the bathroom gathering up some medical supplies, a hard knock sounded on the front door. A moment later she heard William say, "Ah, you must be Michael. We've been expecting you."

Jessica immediately stepped out of the bathroom. The tall man deliberately turned his black eyes onto her. "Hello, Michael," she greeted. "I'm Jessica, and that's my husband William. We're Bonnie Davis' parents."

Instant comprehension filled the killer's expression.

"Your fiancé told us everything," Jessica explained. "She's resting in the guest room right now."

Michael abruptly brushed passed her and strode directly to the guest room's door. Jessica cautiously followed him. "Michael, Karen was stabbed," she informed him, her tone quiet.

He looked at her and gave his head a curt nod. He knew.

Jessica stood back as the killer slowly opened the door. He stood in the threshold for a long moment, simply staring into the large room.

Curious, Jessica peered around the door jamb. Karen was lying on top of the coverlet, sound asleep. "I was just about to clean her wound," the woman murmured, "but you're welcome to do it, if you want."

Michael nodded, his dark eyes never wavering from his fiancé.

"She guessed you'd be angry with her, but we didn't feel comfortable letting her leave in her condition." When the killer failed to respond, Jessica said, "You're both welcome to stay here as long as necessary, but just to warn you, we've been hounded by the police and news reporters all day today, and I'm sure they'll be back again tomorrow."

That got Michael's attention.

"Don't worry. We won't breathe a word about this to anyone. Karen did what she felt obligated to do. We can't fault her for that—and neither should you," she courageously added.

Michael merely returned his eyes to the unconscious teenager.

Sighing, Jessica said, "I'll bring you everything you'll need to clean the wound. I'll be right back."

When the woman left, Michael slowly approached the bed, regarding his soulmate with a new-found respect. Her eyelids remained closed, but he suspected she could still hear him. "I know I should be angry with you for going after Dawn alone, but I'm not," he confided. "You proved your mettle today, Karen, and I'm damn proud of you."

He fell mute when he heard footsteps approaching the opened door. Mrs. Davis entered the room. She set a bowl of soapy water down on the nightstand, along with a sponge; a large first aid kit; and a bottle of aspirin.

"There," she said. "Is there anything else you need?"

The killer shook his head.

"All right. Well, my husband and I are going to bed. If you decide to leave before sunrise, could you please just lock the door on your way out?"

He offered her a single nod.

"Thank you."

Michael waited for the door to close before tending to his lover. He unbuttoned the flannel nightshirt, his eyes widening at the sight of her injury. "That son of a bitch," he hissed, though his anger quickly turned into admiration.

Even after she had been stabbed, Karen had possessed the strength to skewer her attacker—twice; hiked all the way to the Davis house; and still had enough energy to explain to them why their daughter had been killed. "You're absolutely amazing, Karen." Michael grabbed the bowl and sponge and then crouched down next to the bed. "I can't wait for you to become my wife."

The teenager didn't offer any response, so he assumed it was safe to start cleaning her wound. He dipped the sponge into the water. However, the moment the sponge touched the laceration she visibly flinched. "Karen, I know this hurts," Michael empathized, "but I need you to relax and stay as still as possible."

Much to his gratification, Karen obeyed his wishes while he tended to her injury. The killer was relieved to see that the wound was already beginning to mend, though the edges were still very raw. "You're healing well, sweetness," he assured her, "but I think we'll stay here for a few more hours. I'd rather not move you right now."

Michael opened the first aid kit and took out a tube of antibiotic ointment, a spool of gauze, medical tape, and scissors. After dressing the deep cut, he buttoned up his fiancé's shirt. Then, he simply let her sleep.

THREE HOURS LATER

Waukegan, Illinois

October 4, 1997

Karen woke up to darkness. She had no idea what time it was, but judging from the lack of light in the room, she knew the sun had yet to rise. Despite the darkness, she was still able to see her lover's form sitting in a chair across the room. "Michael, are you awake?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Yes."

"I'm ready to leave now. Will you help me?"

"Of course," he said, rising from the chair. He picked up her clothes from their spot on the floor and then reached for her hand.

With Michael's assistance, Karen sat up, wincing slightly at the discomfort.

He tilted his head at her. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Yes," she firmly answered.

He merely nodded and set her garments down on the bed.

The teenager quickly donned her pants but inwardly cringed as she held up her bloodied sweater. "Do you think the Davises will mind if I keep their shirt?" she questioned.

Michael smirked at her. "No, just don't leave your sweater here."

Karen folded the soiled garment and said, "Would you mind carrying it."

He shook his head, tucking the sweater underneath his arm as he helped her with her shoes.

"Thanks," she said, "for everything."

Michael leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her lips. "My pleasure, sweetness. Now, let's get out of here."

Nodding, Karen gingerly stood up. She followed her partner out of the room, pausing for a moment at the sound of a woman weeping.

"Karen, there's nothing more you can do for her," the killer sternly said. "You've given them closure. How they decide to cope with their loss is now completely up to them."

Knowing he was right, the teenager continued walking to the front door. Michael held it open for her and then locked it securely behind them. Together, they descended the steps and headed towards the green Buick parked near the barn.

"I'm glad you drove here," Karen commented.

Michael gave her a sideways glance. "I'm sure you are."

The couple entered the car. As soon as Michael revved up the engine, Karen leaned back in her seat and drew out a cleansing breath.

He looked over at her, his expression serious. "You've been through a lot today, sweetness," he stated. "Are you feeling all right?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"So no regrets?"

"No, none," she truthfully replied.

The killer returned his eyes to the dark country road. "Good."

Karen straightened and said, "Michael, you know I didn't kill that man purely in self-defense. I wanted him dead for reasons that went far beyond him stabbing me."

Her companion met her gaze. "Karen, you had every right to kill that man, self-defense or not. No one is going to deny you that."

"But you still didn't want me going after him."

Michael audibly sighed. "Karen, killing someone, no matter the reasons behind it, can still be very damaging," he said, looking out the windshield. "I wasn't sure if you were ready, truly ready, to take a life. Today you proved that you are, given the right circumstances. However, I still don't believe you'd be able to kill a person in cold blood."

"No, I don't think so either," Karen agreed.

"And, truth be told, I wouldn't want you to."

Karen's eyes lingered on Michael for a long moment, a soft smile touching her lips. "Thanks, Michael; that means a lot to me."

They rode the rest of the way to the mansion in amicable silence. When Michael finally killed the engine, he turned to Karen. "So, are you ready to go in?"

She gave her head a sound nod. "Yes."

He led the way inside the large house. The teenager had assumed that everyone would be in bed, but the moment she stepped into the foyer, pandemonium broke loose. Michael immediately backed away from her, refusing to be a part of the commotion.

"Oh my god, you're alive!" Johanna yelled, running up to Karen. "We were worried sick about you!"

"Derek said he and Michael found a knife covered in your blood," Rebekah added, "but that you were missing."

"Where the hell were you?" Nathaniel asked.

"Didn't you ever think to call?" Rebekah countered.

"Hey!" Derek suddenly called out, silencing everybody. "Will you all let the poor girl breathe?" he commanded. He gave her a long look, which she returned. "I'm glad to see that you're still in one piece, kiddo."

"So am I," Karen answered. She really wanted to have a private conversation with the cop, but no one seemed very eager to leave the foyer. Finally, she said, "I'm going to get a drink."

"I'll go with you," said Derek.

Karen nodded, glancing over at Michael only to find that he was already gone.

No one dared follow her and the cop into the kitchen, which she was glad about. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with refrigerated water. "How's Dawn?" she asked, sitting down at the table.

"Alive, thanks to you."

"Don't," she abruptly demanded.

"Don't what, Karen, thank you for saving my daughter's life?" he asked. "Kiddo, if it wasn't for you, Dawn would be dead, and Johanna and I would be in the same position as the Davises."

Karen sipped her water. "That's where I went after I killed my father's associate," she said. "I told them everything."

The cop studied her hard. "You felt responsible for Bonnie's death."

"Yes," she admitted. "I felt responsible for bringing her killer here."

Derek instantly shook his head. "Karen, Bonnie's death isn't your fault."

"I know." She finished her drink and sighed. "Michael once told me that I can't blame myself for the decisions others ultimately make."

"That's wise advice, kiddo."

"Yeah," she muttered.

Derek offered her an encouraging smile. "He loves you, Karen—very deeply."

The teenager tenderly touched her side. "I know. I love him very deeply, too. He is my true soulmate."

The cop sat forward in his chair and said, "Karen, if you'll let me, I'd be honored to give you away at your wedding."

Tears instantly sprung to her eyes, but she held them at bay. "I would love that, Mr. Johnson."

"Derek," he corrected. "We don't need formalities between us, not anymore."

The brunette wordlessly nodded, too moved to say anything.

"Well, kiddo, I think I'm going to call it a night," Derek said, standing up.

Karen followed suit. "Yeah, so am I. Thanks for the talk, though."

He walked over and briefly hugged her. "Anytime."

By the time they left the kitchen, the mansion was quiet, much to Karen's relief. Derek kept her company as they ascended the grand staircase. When they reached the second door on the right, he bade her goodnight and disappeared into his room.

The teenager leisurely strode down the dimly lit hallway and quietly entered her quarters. Michael was lying in bed. His eyes were closed, but they snapped open the second she closed the door.

"I'll join you in a few minutes," she said.

He simply nodded, watching as she slipped into the bathroom.

Once she completed her bedtime routine, Karen returned to the bedroom. She tossed her jeans in the hamper and set her car key on the bureau. Then, she crawled into bed only to discover that her partner was naked under the blankets. "Michael, we can't make love tonight," she told him. "I didn't take my pill yesterday."

"Yes, I know," he said, "but you're not ovulating, yet, so we're safe—unless you're too sore?"

Karen shook her head. "No."

"Good," he replied, "because I want nothing more than to be inside of you."

"I want that, too," she confessed.

The killer rose above the teenager and shoved her panties to the side, not even bothering to undress her. He pushed his manhood against her, both of them moaning softly as he sank down deep into her moist folds. "I love you, Karen," he muttered into her hair. "I know I keep telling you that, but it's the damn truth."

"Michael," she said, hugging him close, "I'll never grow tired of hearing those words from you. Promise me you'll never stop saying them."

He moved his face down so that it was even with hers and stared intensely into her eyes. "I promise."

Michael made passionate love to her, then. Afterwards, Karen fell sound asleep entangled in his arms with a hint of a contented smile still touching her lips.