Chapter Thirty
Bryn sighed as she ran a brush through her hair.
She had been seeing Conor for almost a month now and it was getting harder and harder to say goodnight at the end of the evening and send him home.
With him working nights and her working days, it didn’t give them a lot of time together except on the weekends.
She was already half in love with him.im.
He was so sweet, so thoughtful, and oh, so handsome and sexy.
He never tried to go too far, never got angry when she drew back, even though she wanted desperately to let him make love to her.
She had never wanted a man as badly as she wanted Conor Saintcrow.
She dreamed of him at night, daydreamed about him at her desk when she should have been working.
Even Mr. Cummings had remarked on it, saying her head seemed to be in the clouds these days.
Anticipation unlocked the butterflies in her stomach when she heard Conor’s familiar knock at the door. Smiling, she hurried to let him in.
He murmured, “Hey, girl,” as he closed the door behind him, then swept her into his arms. “I missed you.”
“Me, too, you,” she said, lifting her face for his kiss.
Ah, his kisses were hot enough to melt steel.
They certainly melted her heart. She leaned into him, loving the strength of his arms around her, the husky sound of his voice as he whispered her name, the low groan that rose in his throat as he let her go.
She almost asked him what he wanted to do that evening, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. Because it was on her mind, too. But that was out of the question.
Apparently he was thinking along the same lines. “Maybe we should go for a walk or something,” he suggested.
“Yes, a walk,” she agreed, and practically ran to get her coat.
It was a lovely night for a stroll. The sky was clear, the moon full and bright, the air chilly.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked.
“No. I’m never cold.”
“Really?”
“Must be my metabolism or something,” he said, with a shrug. “How was your day?”
“Same old, same old. There are always papers that should have been signed yesterday and clients complaining, and prices going up. But I love it. And my boss is very nice and patient. How are things in Morgan Creek?”
“Same old, same old.” He hated lying to her about how he spent his days, but he could hardly tell her the truth – that he was trapped in the dark sleep until the sun went down.
“There are always tourists complaining about the service, the pool’s too hot, the pool’s too cold, the toilet’s backed up, the sink leaks. ”
Bryn laughed. “Sounds exciting.”
“Oh, yeah.” They had gone a few more blocks when Conor swore softly, ducked into a dark alley, and pulled Bryn into his arms. “I can’t make any more small talk,” he said, his voice a low growl. “All I can think about is holding you in my arms and...well, you can guess the rest.”
She had no trouble surmising what else he wanted.
She wanted it, too. She gazed up at him, excited and a little frightened by the desire blazing in his midnight blue eyes.
She trembled when he drew her closer, his mouth descending on hers.
Heretofore, his kisses had been tender, gentle, but there was no gentleness in him now.
His tongue slid between her lips, mating with hers in a dance as old as time.
It sent a shaft of desire straight to her core.
She moaned softly as her arms went up around his neck and for a moment she forgot where they were, forgot everything except her rampant need to lose herself in his kisses, to give him anything he desired if he would only ease the ache inside her.
Ever after, he would wonder what would have happened if three armed men hadn’t burst into the alley, guns drawn, demanding all their money.
Bryn let out a choked shriek as one of the men shoved her up against the wall of a building and held her there. She let out a cry of protest when he ran his hands over her.
Rage exploded in Conor. He grabbed the nearest man and hurled him against the building. The third man fired point blank at Conor’s chest. He swore as pain ripped through him, then grabbed the gun from the man’s hand, turned it on him, and pulled the trigger.
The thief holding Bryn turned tail and ran.
Bryn stared at Conor. In the faint light of a street lamp, she saw that his shirt was wet. Wet with blood that looked black in the dim light. She stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth agape.
Conor stared back at her, silently cursing the men who had attacked them, wondering how on earth he was going to explain why he wasn’t dead from a bullet to the heart. Already, he could feel the wound healing, and with it a sudden need for blood to replace what was trickling down his chest.
Bryn took a step backward. And then another. And then she fainted.
Conor scooped her up into his arms before she hit the ground and transported the two of them to his lair in Morgan Creek.
~ * ~
Caught in the throes of a horrible nightmare, Bryn bolted upright, the scream dying in her throat when she saw Conor standing in front of a fireplace, his back toward her.
She stared at him. He was barefooted. His hair was damp.
He had changed his shirt. Her gaze ran over his broad back and shoulders. There was no sign that he’d been shot.
Frowning, she glanced around the room, wondering where they were. She was lying on a leather sofa in a large room. How had she gotten here, wherever here was? Was it possible she had dreamed the whole thing?
But she wasn’t dreaming now. “Conor?”
He turned slowly to face her. He had spent the last half hour trying to decide whether to tell her the truth or erase the whole incident from her mind.
She cared deeply for him. During the last few weeks they had spent together, he feared he had fallen in love with her, for the thought of never seeing her again was more than he could bear.
Was she made of the same mettle as his mother, able to see past the monster to the man inside?
He supposed the only way to find out was to tell her the truth.
If she reacted as he feared she would, he would erase this night from her mind, and all her memories of himself, as well.
Bryn stared at Conor, her unease growing stronger.
Why was he looking at her so strangely? Why didn’t he say something?
He’d been shot in the chest at point blank range.
Why wasn’t he dead, or at least in the hospital?
“I saw you get shot,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “You were bleeding.”
“I can explain. Everything.”
“Can you?” Suddenly frightened, she sat up and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Bryn, please don’t be afraid of me.”
“Stay away from me.” Moving slowly, she stood. “I’m going home.”
“Bryn....”
“I never want to see you again.” Turning on her heel, she hurried toward the door and flung it open, only to come to a halt at the end of the porch. Gazing into the distance, she realized she was in Morgan Creek, with no way home. How had they gotten here so fast?
She tensed as Conor came up behind her.
“Bryn, please calm down. Come back inside and let me explain.”
She turned to face him, her eyes wide and frightened, her cheeks pale.
Muttering under his breath, he put some distance between them. Once she was back inside, he closed the door.
Bryn stood in front of the fireplace, arms tightly folded across her chest. “All right,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Explain.” She glanced at the door, tempted to run outside and scream for help.
But what would she say? No one would believe he’d been shot.
She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined it.
Conor took a deep breath. Shit. Where to start? “My parents are both vampires.”
Bryn stared at him. “Vampires? Seriously? Dammit, Conor, I’m in no mood for bad jokes!”
“Believe me, I’m not joking.”
Taking a deep breath, she decided to humor him. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do with the mentally impaired? “You weren’t a vampire when we met. I saw you eat. I saw you during the day.”
“My parents adopted me when I was a baby. I grew up here, in Morgan Creek. I didn’t know what they were for the first few years.
I knew they could do some remarkable things that I’d never seen anyone else do, but I thought they were magicians.
When I turned twelve, they told me the truth, emphasizing that I was never, ever, to tell anyone else.
As I got older, I wanted to be a vampire more than anything, but Saintcrow said I had to wait until I was old enough to make a decision like that.
I made it a week after you left for Vermont.
” He blew out a sigh. “I wish now I had waited.”
“So do I,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. What was she saying? It couldn’t possibly be true. Vampires were myths. Weren’t they? Still, how else could he have survived a gunshot to the heart?
“I guess this changes everything,” he said quietly.
Bryn stared at him. Confused and afraid, all she wanted to do was go home. And yet, deep down, she didn’t want to leave him. But staying was out of the question. Either he was crazy or he was a vampire and she didn’t want to be involved with either one.
“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” he asked, his voice thick. “You can’t deny there’s a connection between us.”
She wanted to deny it, but even now she could feel that connection drawing her toward him. “I need time.” She told herself he would never hurt her, but she couldn’t help being repulsed by what he was. Or thought he was. “I need time,” she said again. “Time to think.”
He nodded. “I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll get a flight.”
“That’s not necessary. I can have you home in a few minutes.”
“How?”
“The same way I got you here, I don’t know how to explain it. I just think where I want to be and I’m there.”
“That’s impossible.” And yet, how else to explain how they had gotten from Vermont to Wyoming so fast?
“It’s true.” He held out his hand. “You can trust me, Bryn.”
The hand she offered trembled visibly. Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes and whispered, “There’s no place like home,” as his arm curled around her waist. This was insane, she thought. People couldn’t fly or just wish themselves wherever they wanted to go.
But when she opened her eyes, they were standing in front of her apartment building. Astonished, she asked, “How did you do that?”
“I told you. I just think about where I want to go and I’m there.”
“So, you thought, I want to go to Bryn’s house, and you were here?” She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“Then how do you explain it?”
“I can’t.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder. And curiosity. And fear.
Fear of the unknown, he thought. Reluctantly, he lowered his arm. “Can I call you in a few days?”
“I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be any point to it now, does there? I mean, you aren’t really you anymore, are you?”
“I’m the same guy I’ve always been,” he said. “Just think of it as having supernatural powers, like Superman. You can be my Lois Lane.”
“Very funny,” she muttered, surprised by the urge to laugh. But there was nothing funny about this. Nothing at all. She didn’t know if he was really a vampire, but he was obviously something more than human.
“I’m gonna call you anyway,” he said. “If you don’t answer, then I won’t call again.” Unable to resist, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “I think I’m in love with you, Bryn, and I think you love me, too,” he murmured, then turned and walked down the street.
Bryn stared after him, more confused than she had ever been in her life.