Fangs for Nothing (23 page)

“That’s horrible,” he said, because there were no words adequate enough to express his sympathy and disgust. “I’m so sorry.”

“Finally, after they posed for photos with his bleeding body, skin peeled back from all his bones, head scalped, nails driven through his hands to see what the result would be, they went out for a pint to celebrate their real-live Frankenstein. It was my plan to release him then. But Jean-Baptiste begged me to merely kill him. He didn’t think he would survive anyway, and I would only be slowed down and putting myself at risk.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t do it. How could I?”

“Holy shit, baby . . .” Johnny was speechless. She shouldn’t have had to make that kind of choice.

“But then one of them came back because he had forgotten his hat, and I knocked him unconscious. I knew I had to kill Jean-Baptiste then, so . . .” Lizette took several deep breaths. “So I did.”

Johnny took her hand and stroked her cool skin gently. He spoke softly, awed by her strength, her tenacity for the last several hundred years. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like for you. I understand completely why you feel the way you do.”

“Thank you. It is important to me that you understand, because I do care about it. I do wish to live a life that is more spontaneous, but without unnecessarily risking my own safety or that of those I care about.” Tears glistened in her eyes, true vampire tears of blood and pain. “I do not want anything bad to happen to you.”

“It won’t,” Johnny assured her, humbled and experiencing a deeper sense of admiration for her than any woman he had ever met. This was what Stella and Wyatt were talking about. There was no urge to run, no need to fear commitment, when you had such a deep, impenetrable respect for the person you were with. “I am going to lie low for a while, and fix things with Benny and Raven. I’ve got some growing up to do, and if you’re okay with it, I’d like to do that here, in Paris. With you.”

That was throwing it all out there. She might laugh, reject him in two seconds flat, or feel sorry for him. But you know what? He had flown halfway across the world, so he might as well go for broke. He may be maturing, but he was always going to be a risk-taker.

“I think that perhaps I would enjoy that,” she said.

Oh, so French. She wasn’t about to gush on him or squeal with delight. But Johnny could see it there, in her eyes. She was both excited and relieved. Just like he was. “Is there room in your pint-sized Paris apartment for an Irish drummer or should I find myself a hotel?”

Lizette gave him a smile that reminded him, discreet or not, the French were the inventors of some of the world’s greatest love acts, starting with kissing with tongue and ending with the ménage. It was in her blood, and he wanted a bite of her.

“Oh, there is definitely room here for you. Shall I model some of the garments you were so kind to bring for me? Or should I start with the oral sex I would like to give you?”

Um. The choices boggled the mind, but he’d be a fool not to go for broke. “I’ll take door number two if you’re down with it.” He kissed her. “And thank you, by the way. For being so amazing, for being so you. I think we’re going to have some serious fun over the next few months.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lizette bent over and unzipped his jeans.

Then Johnny discovered what the meaning of eternity really was as her head descending at an agonizingly slow pace.

But it was worth the wait.

Chapter Eighteen

I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOUR LOVE TONIGHT

D
RAKE
played the guitar solo of “Talk Dirty to Me” like he had exactly seventeen times since the night Josie Lynn had disappeared. He’d played “Sweet Home Alabama” fifteen times. “Long Train Running” fifteen, too. “Jessie’s Girl” eighteen times, because they always got more than one request for that one in any given night. And he’d played “Your Love” nineteen times, because that one was also a fan favorite. Which never really made any sense to him, since the band had really only been a one-hit wonder, and if you asked anyone if they knew The Outfield, the band that originally performed it, most people would probably say no.

Until Cort started to sing that first line, “Josie’s on a vacation far away . . .” and the crowd roared in recognition night after night.

Drake had tried to pretend that was all it was. Josie was gone on vacation and she’d be back any day now. And unlike the song, he had no interest in hooking up with some other woman in her absence. Truth be told, he didn’t have much interest in anything.

The bar was pretty quiet tonight and even a Poison song couldn’t pull the crowd in if there was no crowd. It was a Sunday and hot as hell. Most smart people were staying in places that had efficient air-conditioning, unlike this place. Of course, heat and cold didn’t affect him. Because he was a freakin’ vampire.

There had been plenty of times over the decades he’d wished he were still human. But none more so than now. He wished he could go find Josie Lynn as a simple man and tell her he loved her and he’d grow old with her. He knew that was all she wanted. A man she could trust and love.

Instead she’d met the ultimate bad boy. Her worst nightmare.

And what had he really been thinking anyway? That he’d eventually tell her and she’d just say, “Oh, you’re a creature of the night. Groovy.”

The band finished up the Poison song, and Cort announced they were going to take a short break.

“You were behind on that whole song,” Cort said as he walked past him.

Drake yanked the plug out of his guitar and glared at his friend. “Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was that idiot on drums.”

Cort raised his hands to show he didn’t want to fight. “I’m not making an issue about it. I’m just letting you know, that’s all. I know your head hasn’t been in the music lately. And I get it. But don’t blame Benny because your heart is in shreds. He may not exactly be a genius but he’s adequate, and you know we needed to do something to guarantee he keeps quiet about our special blood-drinking habit. So don’t piss him off.”

Cort’s words irritated Drake even more. It was bad enough his heart was in shreds, he didn’t need everyone knowing it. He set his guitar on the stand with more force than necessary—honestly, with more force than he would have ever used before this funk. His guitars used to be his babies. They used to be enough.

Oh shit, he was turning into one of those musicians who thought of their guitars as women. Or compared them to women.

This sucked.

“Dude, you okay?”

Oh no. He couldn’t take this again. What was coming now was even worse than Cort and the other band guys’ sympathy.

“I’m really sorry, Drake. I should have thought before I spoke, man. But you know how I am.” Saxon gave him one of his puppy-dog looks.

Saxon had tried to apologize at least a dozen times and in a dozen different ways since Josie Lynn had taken off, and while Drake appreciated that his friend regretted what happened, he couldn’t take any more acts of contrition. He felt shitty enough without worrying about Saxon feeling shitty, too.

“Listen, Saxon, it is what it is. I’ll get over it, but honestly I don’t want to talk about it or her. It isn’t helping.”

Saxon nodded, then his eyes widened and he opened his mouth, and Drake knew more words of regret were coming, despite what Drake had just said.

“Seriously, Saxon, I can’t take any more of your apologies. I know you are sorry. Enough said about it.”

“But—”

“No,” Drake said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear it. Please.”

“But really,” Saxon said, the woeful puppy-dog look gone. Now he was grinning. From ear to ear. “You’re gonna wanna hear this.”

Drake stared at him, wondering why he was even questioning his odd little friend’s behavior. Saxon was nothing if not odd.

“Really. You are going to want to hear what I have to say.”

Drake sighed. Clearly he was going to have to suffer through another explanation so he could finally just go get a shot and hopefully numb himself a little.

“Josie Lynn is here.”

Drake stared at Saxon, not understanding. How was this an apology? In fact, this was the worst—and perhaps cruelest—attempt to help yet.

“Alright, Saxon, thanks for trying to cheer me up. In your own weird way.”

“No, man, for real.” Saxon pointed past him.

Drake turned, still expecting this to be another of Saxon’s cockamamie ways of trying to help. But then he froze.

Josie Lynn stood near the doorway, looking a little nervous. Looking absolutely gorgeous.

He blinked, sure he must be imagining her. It had been almost three weeks. He’d given up on the idea of seeing her ever again. But there she was.

Her gaze met his and even through in the hazy, dimly lit bar, he could see how amazingly blue her eyes were. Her hair was loose, framing her face in waves of golden honey.

He didn’t realize he was walking down from the stage and going to her until he was only a foot away. Close enough to touch. To kiss.

“Hi,” was all he could think to say. His brain mush.

“Hi,” she said back.

“I—I’ve . . .”

What the hell did he say? He didn’t know. He considered himself a pretty clever, articulate guy, but nothing came to him. Nothing that would be good enough to make her stay.

“So rumor has it you’re a vampire. Is that true, or are you and your friends all nuts?”

He stared at her, then cleared his throat nervously. Neither answer was a good one. Neither answer was going to get her to stay. But he wasn’t going to lie to her. Not like the other men she’d been with.

“I’m a vampire.”

She nodded, not looking particularly surprised. Nor did she look like she planned to run.

“I thought that was probably the case.”

Wow, she was taking this way too well.

“So why aren’t you running in terror?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “Because I’ve had time to think about it. And because you said I could trust you. And because I figured if you really wanted to hurt me, you had ample opportunity, both the night we blacked out and the night after.”

“True.”

She nodded, and he was afraid this was all she’d come for, to validate the truth, and he couldn’t let her leave.

“I’ve—I’ve missed you.” Okay, that sounded kind of lame, but it was out and he wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t giving her the opportunity to leave. Not yet. “I’ve thought about you every day—well, you know, every night. I’ve wanted to try to contact you.”

“But you did contact me,” she said, and reached into the purse and pulled out an envelope. He knew exactly what it was. He’d sent her an anonymous letter with cash in it. Because he knew she needed help with her business. Because he knew she wouldn’t accept his help unless she didn’t know it was from him.

But she did know.

“You figured out where I lived,” she said. “You could have come to see me anytime, yet you didn’t. Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you,” he said simply.

She nodded again, and then to his utter shock, she stepped forward and kissed him. He wanted to pull her against him, he wanted to deepen the kiss and let her see all his longing for her. But he didn’t dare.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said against his lips.

“Even though I’m a monster,” he whispered.

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. “You are not a monster. You are the only man I’ve ever known that I could trust one hundred percent.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, even though it was absolutely true.

“Because you believed me. You protected me.” She lifted the envelope again. “You wanted to help me. You let me go because you knew I had to figure all this out. And most of all, because when I look in your eyes, I can see you love me.”

He groaned. “God, I do. I love you.”

He pulled her against him and kissed her hard this time. “Is it possible to love someone this much after just one night?”

She grinned up at him. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’ve lived a lot longer than I have.”

“All I know is in all those years, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

“And I know I don’t have as many years as you, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone either.”

They gazed at each other a moment longer, then kissed like they were the only ones in the room. But alas they weren’t, and soon Drake felt a thump on his back.

“Hey, it looks like we won’t be forced to be ancient bachelors together after all, huh?” Johnny grinned at Drake, fresh off the plane from Paris. He loosely held Lizette’s hand, happy to be back in his adopted hometown even if it was only for a week to pack up his apartment.

“Thank God for that,” Drake said, smiling as he stuck out his hand to shake it. “Welcome home, bro.”

“At least it didn’t take a wake this time to spawn true love,” Stella said joining them, giving her brother a pointed look.

“Well, it kind of did,” Johnny said, giving Lizette an affectionate smile. She was wearing her hair down loose and he thought she was the most gorgeous woman on earth. “My fake death made this all happen.”

“Don’t say that with such pride,” Lizette said in admonishment, laughing. “It was still a terrible thing to do.”

“Yeah, that was like so rude,” Saxon said appearing in the group. “Unlike my wedding, which was beautiful.”

Yep. Saxon was still smoking the wacky weed if he thought that debacle could be classified as beautiful. But, Johnny couldn’t argue that it had played a role in bringing him and Lizette, and certainly Drake and Josie Lynn, together.

The ever-sweet Katie said, “Maybe it was just meant to be.” She leaned into Cort’s side, smiling up at him. He kissed her.

“I think you are all wrong,” said Benny, twirling his drumsticks like he was an overenthusiastic majorette. “I think it takes blacking out and getting one helluva hangover.”

None of them could argue that.