Authors: Toni Kelly
“Shh.” He turned to her, placed a finger against her lips. It felt cool against her warmth. “Do not say that.”
“It’s the truth.” Her lips tingled as they grazed his skin.
“Do not be naive. They would not kill you, Savannah. You are too valuable.”
She swallowed over a knot in her throat. Of course. She was a fool to think otherwise. She would be imprisoned but kept alive because she was of use to them. Not treated as a person, but as an object for destruction and torture. Always an object. What would happen when they no longer needed her? “Why not send me away? I become more and more involved the longer I stay here.”
Luke neared, cupped her face. “It is not so simple.”
He made sense, but running was what she always did. As he massaged her lower lip with his thumb, she shivered. Her eyelids grew heavy, drooped, eclipsing the fire’s light. “Luke, stop.” Her voice came out raspy. “You’re distracting me.” And heaven help her, she didn’t want him to stop. When his mouth replaced his finger, couldn’t bring herself to protest. Soft and moist, his lips melded with hers.
He smelled clean and masculine. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer and inhaled to catch her breath. His body felt hard against the softness of hers, and he dwarfed her, making her feel small, feminine. But this was wrong, wasn’t it? “Please.” She pushed against his chest and broke their kiss. “I’m not another romp in the sack.”
He pulled away and stood with his back to her. “I never said as much. Still, you know I cannot offer you more.”
Did she come across as so desperate? “I never asked for more.”
“You did not have to ask aloud.” Luke turned and met her gaze. “I can see it in your eyes. As much as I wish it, I am not fairytale material.”
She broke his stare, her gaze falling to his mouth. Fangs weren’t visible beneath the edge of his upper lip, nor had she felt them when he’d kissed her. Did she want the impossible? “Maybe I’m not looking for the fairytale.” Didn’t that make her insignificant?
Everything was jumbled inside her. She didn’t have time to decipher her emotions before he wrapped a cold hand around her neck and pressed her against the wall. Despite his firm but gentle grip and the fireplace mere inches away, an icy tremor shook her.
“Do not push me,” he growled. “Your desire clouds my mind.” He leaned close. “You cannot change who and what I am.”
“I’m not trying to change you,” she said, biting her lip as she turned away.
“Really? Do you want to sink your teeth into fresh warm flesh, dip your tongue into even warmer blood? Would you like to know what blood tastes like?”
“I’ve tasted it before.” Her limbs stirred with desire even as her stomach flipped in disgust. The thought of feeding from another person repulsed her.
“I am not talking about a cut lip.” He pulled up her chin, forced her to stare directly into his dark eyes, which deepened to plum. He smiled, lifting his lips to reveal two sharp-tipped fangs.
Her heart tripped, threatened to pound from her chest. How could one tangy liquid be sufficient to sustain life—and an immortal one at that?
“How can I put this so you will understand?” He leaned his head back. “Strawberries and cream.”
What the hell was he talking about? “You’re h-hungry?”
Making a blatant display of interest, he swept her face and body with his gaze. “At my apartment, you indulged in strawberries and whipped cream. Why? Because they are delicious, right? You are my strawberries and whipped cream.”
A wave of nausea washed over her. She probably wouldn’t ever look at berries and cream the same way again. “You don’t have to be so direct. I get the point.”
“Do you?” He leaned closer. Even now as she struggled to digest the meaning of his words, his scent taunted her. “Still interested in me? In knowing my blood and having me know yours?”
“Stop it.” She shoved against his chest, trying to slide along the wall. He was too strong. “What, it makes a difference now because you aren’t planning to kill me afterward?”
“Yes, it does,” he replied.
Tears clouded her vision. She wouldn’t even bother asking him why it made a difference. There was no point, and she didn’t want to hear excuses. He was evil for publishing an ad and enticing her only to teach her a lesson. And she hated her desire to take an easy way out, as that had gotten her in this situation. But most of all, she despised herself because, despite everything, she cared for him, maybe even loved him.
“Go to hell.” Hands fisted, she pushed against him. He stood firm, like a rock, until she went limp in his grasp. Tilting her head up, she met his stone cold gaze. “You’re a monster.”
The red of his eyes blended to a dark brown and his fangs retracted. Loosening his grip, he stepped back. “At last, something we can agree upon,” he said then turned on his heel and exited the room.
* * * *
Savannah awoke, startled by someone saying her name and a rustling noise. “Hello?” Her head pounded from crying herself to sleep.
“Are you okay? You were mumbling in your sleep.” A cool hand hooked under her arm, pulled her to a sitting position. Broderick hunched over her, his gray blue eyes reflective in the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s being an ass, am I right?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, shivering, and turned toward the fire. Only a few embers remained.
“Let me take care of that for you.” Broderick removed a few logs from a pile beside the fireplace and tossed them into the hearth. Lighting several pieces of newspaper, he spread them over the logs. “There, that should get the fire going faster.”
“Thank you.”
He removed a throw from a sofa and draped it over her then sat on a nearby ottoman. The gesture was so thoughtful, she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she fall for nice guys? “You’re not like Luke, are you? I mean, a vampire.”
“I’m a halfling. My mother was human, my father a vampire. I have features from both races. For example, a vampire’s strength and speed but a human’s need for more sleep and food. And I can walk in daylight.”
She rubbed the middle of her forehead, trying to soothe the ache away. “I didn’t even realize such races could mix.” Hell, she hadn’t even believed vampires existed up until days ago.
“It’s not as common, as we must be born and cannot be created through the drawing of blood.” He paused. “Do you want to tell me what has you looking so forlorn?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m homesick.”
He reached beneath her chin, turned her to face him. “He’s not as bad as he makes himself out to be.”
Could have fooled her. “What was she like, his wife?”
“Truth be told, I never met Victoria. She died a hundred and fifty years before Luke and I met.”
“What?” He must have loved her a lot to still be holding onto her memory.
“Don’t worry,” Broderick replied. “Luke’s not too old. Two hundred or so is fairly young for a vampire.”
Young? Luke had lived during the Industrial Revolution in Britain. “No wonder he is always so proper. Society called for it then.”
“Maybe. Luke was nobility and he didn’t readily embrace his change,” Broderick said. “He still doesn’t.”
“What else do you know?” she asked.
He dropped his hand, stood and stirred the logs in the fireplace with the poker. “I only know what he has told me,” he said as he lowered himself to the floor beside her. “Have you tried talking to him?”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I can’t even get him to carry on a normal conversation yet alone something personal and intimate. He’s like a beast—only his outside appearance is deceivingly appealing.”
Broderick’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “He can be a bit prickly at times, but beneath the needles, he’s a good guy.”
“Lucky for anyone who gets to meet the sweet and caring side of him.” Had any other women gotten beneath Luke’s rough shield. Monica? The thought of the beautiful vampire annoyed her. “I need a drink or something.” She rose to her knees only to find Broderick’s hand clasped around her upper arm. “What?”
“I know you’ve met that side of him. Don’t brush it off too hastily. He cares about you.”
If Broderick spoke the truth, Luke had a strange way of showing it. And yet, nothing about meeting him had been what she would term normal. Hell, he was a vampire. His earlier comments alone were enough to scare her off. She sat down, exhausted from her swinging emotions. “Even if he does care, what potential do we have for a happy ending?” She met his gaze. “Luke is right. This is no fairytale. Even if he did turn me, I wouldn’t be like you, would I?”
“No,” Broderick said. “You would be like Luke, a pure vampire.”
“I couldn’t do without sunrises and normal food. I’ve always dreamed of being a chef in my own place.” She bit her lip. “It’s why I answered the ad.”
“I’m sorry.” He tucked several stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I should have dug more on you. I should have pushed Luke harder.”
“I think we’ve all made mistakes we wish we could change.”
“My, my, enough of these cozy scenes and I shall think you have other intentions, Broderick.”
At the sound of Luke’s voice, she jerked. He leaned against the wall next to the hallway, his expression thunderous, his arms crossed.
“I’ll take my cue.” Broderick sighed and stood up. “The fridge is now fully stocked so help yourselves.” He attempted to go into the hallway only to be blocked by Luke. “Don’t even think about taking out your issues on me, Evans. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit now and despite being a halfling, you know I’ll give you a run for your money.”
Luke’s eyes flashed burgundy before he stepped back, letting Broderick pass. A nervous stirring whirled in the pit of Savannah’s stomach. She brushed the heated skin of her arm with a hand. As Luke approached, she wished she could construct an invisible barrier to put up between them. She wasn’t ready for more tears.
“What kind of restaurant would you open?” he asked.
“What?” She inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly, trying to calm her surprise. “Why do you care?”
He sat on a sofa opposite her. “I want to know what dream was so important you would answer my ad and travel four thousand miles to achieve it.”
She cleared her throat. How much had he overheard? “I see it as a Tuscan-styled restaurant. Cozy, lots of wood and plaster.” She paused and looked around. Creamy plaster and wooden walls stood as backdrops to suede, sage-colored sofas and a dark leather recliner. The rug she sat on seemed to be made of some kind of thick animal fur. A stone fireplace crackled several feet from them, chasing away any cool air seeping through a big bay window on the other side of the room. “Different colors, but cozy-looking like this cabin.”
“What kind of food would you serve?”
“The food will be American with an occasional international flare.” She frowned, suddenly annoyed she wanted to tell him more. “I haven’t decided anything else.”
Liar
. She’d spent years conjuring up every detail of the restaurant, but why speak about a dream unlikely to happen?
“It sounds like a good plan so far.” His voice almost sounded wistful.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I do not have dreams.” He turned toward the window. Snowflakes hit the fogged glass as wind whistled through the night. Dark and cold, the scene outside seemed to mirror the emotions playing across his face.
For some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want to give up on him. “What about when you were human? Did you have plans and hopes then?”
A crease formed between his brows, marring the perfection of his face. “I am not sure I remember much before I was turned.”
“Or maybe you don’t want to remember.” She continued boldly, “I want to know how you became a vampire. And, I want to know about Victoria.”
22
The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it, you will discover that for you the world is transformed.
—Jiddu Krishnamurti
“I was turned a couple hundred years ago.” Luke leaned back on the sofa. The fire in the hearth danced before him, autumn orange flames jumping up, licking the stone sides. “I had recently married Victoria, after a short courtship. Not uncommon during those days. She was perfect.” He smiled in remembrance of his visits to her family home in London.