Maureen Child – Holiday with a Vampire: Christmas Cravings (страница 7)
“And if they do come, then what?” The small dribble of fear she’d felt earlier became a running river, pushing through her veins, making her mouth dry and her head feel light.
He slanted a look at her. “If they come, then you should be gone.”
Go? When she’d finally found a home? When she finally had something to live for? A chance at a life that wasn’t revolving around hiding? No.
She’d run before to save her life.
Now she would stay to fight for it. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yeah. Thought you’d say that.” Walking back to the table, he reached into the box and picked up a packet of blood. “So. Looks like I won’t be leaving tonight after all.”
“Damn straight,” she snapped, fear giving way to resolve at the thought of hordes of vampires descending on her. “You can help me make stakes…and I wonder if the church in town is open. Holy water. A bucket or two full. And…” She stopped, looked at him and said, “I know why I want the help. But why are you volunteering to stay?”
“Because I brought this here. And I’m not going to bring more death into this house.”
His gaze was dark, his features tight and every square inch of him looked poised for battle. That sense of power that clung to him filled the tiny room and practically hummed in the air.
“
“A hundred and fifty years ago,” he said quietly, “my wife and children died in this house. And I was the one who invited their killer inside.”
Grayson ignored the stamp of curiosity on her features. He’d said more than he’d planned and now regretted it. But then he was used to a life filled with regrets. What was one more? Lifting his head, he reached out with the finely honed senses of his kind and smiled. “Near sundown.”
“Close. But it’s snowing, so there’s no sun anyway.”
“You have a microwave?” he asked, picking up a packet of blood and leaving the rest in the shipping box. He headed out of the secret room, not waiting to see if she followed. He’d had more than his share of small spaces crowded with too many ghosts for one day.
“Of course,” she said, coming up right behind him. “Why do you…oh.”
He stared at her, then deliberately lowered his gaze to her neck. “I prefer my blood
She swallowed hard, but she didn’t flinch this time—just stared right back at him and he had to give her points for it. All in all, Tessa Franklin was a woman who could adjust to the bizarre fairly quickly. A shame she wasn’t more careful.
If more of his kind showed up here looking for him, it was likely they wouldn’t show her the same sort of consideration he was. They’d look at her and see her only as something to drink.
Why that bothered him more than it should, he didn’t care to think about.
He walked back to the kitchen and waited while she got him a coffee mug. He smirked at the happy face stamped on it in bright yellow, but opened the packet of blood and poured it inside. Opening the microwave, he set the mug inside, closed the door and punched the timer.
While he waited, he turned to look at her in the overhead lights. Beyond the kitchen, the day was dying in a swirl of ice and snow. He saw trees bending with their heavy white burden and heard the moan of the wind as it curled around the house. He focused more sharply then, and heard the skittering footsteps of a small animal looking for shelter. There was a brush of something more, too. Not vampire. Not completely human. Something—it was gone as quickly as it had come. Had he imagined it? Was he so primed for a threat, he saw one where none existed?
He shook his head and heard the buzz of the light fixture, and the beat of Tessa’s heart. That quick, staccato rhythm told him she was more nervous than she pretended to be.
Courage or foolishness?
His mind still open to any possible threat, he reached into the microwave when the timer dinged, took out the mug and had a sip.
She frowned, but he ignored it. “We all need blood to survive, Tessa. Even humans.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and looked him square in the eye, as if trying to tell him she wasn’t bothered by the sight of him drinking. “I guess you’re right. It’s just—”
“Easier to take with an IV tube?”
“Yes.”
“I am what I am. Have been for too long to apologize for it now.”
“I didn’t ask for an apology.”
Not with words. But he read her eyes. Those deep blue eyes that looked at him and saw a man— until he reminded her otherwise. He shrugged and moved to the bay window overlooking the yard and the stand of woods beyond. Changing the subject because he preferred talking of things that didn’t matter, he said, “It hasn’t really changed much over the years. You say you just bought it.”
“A few months ago.” She came up beside him with quiet steps. “The first time I saw the house, I knew I wanted it. It was as if it had been sitting here. Waiting for me.” She reached out and touched one hand to the mist on the cold window, leaving her fingerprints in the damp. “Sounds silly, but I felt like I’d found home.”
“It’s a good place,” he said, not commenting on her little confession. But he knew what she meant. He’d felt the same when he first saw this piece of land so long ago. It had all been wide open then. With the nearest neighbor almost twenty miles away. He and his family had settled into the seclusion and hadn’t minded being on their own.
Until that last night.
As if she knew his thoughts had turned to the past again, she spoke up.
“What happened? I mean…”
“I know what you mean.” He took another drink of the hot blood, savoring the thick, rich taste as it slid down his throat. Appropriate, he thought, that he should have blood in his mouth to tell this story.
“It was Christmas night.” His voice was cool, detached, as though he were talking about something that had happened to a stranger. And that was more right than not, after all. It had been so long now, the man he’d been had nothing to do with the person he’d become. “A man came to the door. Freezing. Hungry. So near death I thought he wouldn’t last the night. I brought him inside.”
He remembered it all so clearly. The scents. The sounds. The baby’s cry, his wife’s soft humming, his son’s laughter. Decades fell away and Grayson tumbled into his own private hell. “We warmed him. Fed him. Though it wasn’t food he wanted.”
He shifted his gaze to hers and held it, trapping her in the story with him, dipping into her mind, so that the pictures he painted were as vivid for her as they were for him. “He killed my wife first. One twist of her neck and she was gone. I fought him, but he was too strong. I remember seeing murder in his eyes and I recall the feel of his fangs as they sank into my neck. Then the next thing I knew, it was morning and I wasn’t dead. Though everyone else was.”
Seconds ticked past before she swayed, closed her eyes briefly and said, “Oh, God. Grayson…”
“He could have killed me, too, of course. Instead he turned me. So that I’d wake and find what he’d left behind. So that I’d survive, knowing everything I loved was dead.”
“You couldn’t have known. When you brought him into the house—you couldn’t have known.”
He refused her offer of sympathy, brushing it aside as if he hadn’t heard the shock and sorrow in her voice. “That’s the point I’m trying to make to you. No one can know. You run an inn. Do you think vampires never stay in hotels? You think they really do live in caves and sleep in coffins?”
“Up until I met you, I didn’t know they existed!”
“Exactly. You don’t know. You wouldn’t recognize a vampire if it came to your door.” He laughed shortly. “Obviously. You didn’t recognize the danger in
“You see compassion as a weakness,” she argued. “It’s not.”
She still didn’t get it. Grayson felt a surge of anger rise up inside to nearly choke him. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the danger around her. Which meant she was in even more jeopardy than most.
“You’re the kind of person vampires live for. Most of them are just killers. They’re not interested in making others of our kind. All they want is to feed and destroy. They leave a trail of misery behind them and think nothing more of it once they’ve moved on. It was blind, stupid luck for you that I’ve sworn off humans. Otherwise—” he paused for a sip “—let’s just say you’d make a damned good snack, Tessa.”
Her eyes narrowed.
In a blink, he set the mug down, grabbed hold of her arm and gave her a hard shake. “Not everything out there deserves your compassion, Tessa. You don’t want to see what’s out there, that’s your business. But until I’m sure that none of my kind have followed me here, you’ll listen to me. You’ll open your eyes. You think you’re prepared. Safe. But you’re not. Humanity thinks it knows evil, but none of you have a clue.”
He held her tight with one hand and waved the other toward the window and the storm beyond the glass. “There are creatures moving among you that live only to cause pain. Who look for nothing more than the opportunity to strike. Do you think you can fight them off? Do you think you can survive?”
Her breath came fast and furious. She pulled free of him and he saw fire in her eyes when she glared at him. It pleased him. At least she had a temper and knew what to do with it.