Chapter Thirty-Two
The minute Conor entered Bryn’s apartment Saturday night, he knew his father had been there. What the hell?
Bryn looked up at him, confused by the anger she read in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“What was Saintcrow doing here?”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know? Did he tell you?”
“I can smell him. What was he doing here?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I...I called him.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
She licked her lips, wondering what to say when he was so angry.
“Dammit, Bryn, tell me.”
“I spent the day researching vampires online.” She sat on the sofa, arms crossed. “Since I couldn’t believe everything I read, I–”
He glared at her. “You called my father to ask him if it was true. Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“I was afraid...that is...” She blew out a breath and straightened her spine.
If she couldn’t be honest with him, then there was no future for them at all.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be completely honest with me, that you’d make light of things you thought would upset me, like the fact that vampires don’t grow old. ”
Her words deflated his anger and he dropped down on the sofa beside her. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. “Did he answer all your questions?”
“For the time being.”
His gaze searched hers. “Do you feel differently about me now?”
“No. Not about you.”
“About vampires?”
She nodded. “Some of it is scary. Most little boys want to be firemen or cowboys. Why did you want to be a vampire?”
“Because of Saintcrow. He’s always fascinated me. He’s strong and powerful. Everyone respects him. He can do all these amazing things...” Conor shrugged. “Some of it is scary, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“How do you spend your days? I mean, nights.”
“Thinking about you, mostly.”
“That’s very flattering, but what did you do before we met?”
“I spent a lot of time getting used to being a vampire. I need to...” He swore under his breath. There was just no way to say “feed” or “hunt” and make it sound normal.
“Saintcrow said you needed blood. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“I was trying to find a way to make it sound less creepy.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Go on.”
“I did what most people do. I dated. Went to movies. Watched TV. Thought about the future. Spent time with my folks and their friends. Just regular stuff. Until I met you.”
Now for the big question, he thought. And knew his whole future depended on her answer. “Where does all this leave us?”
“I’m not sure. I just know I don’t want to stop seeing you. At least not now. I want to spend time with the real you before I make any decisions.”
“The real me?”
“I don’t want you to hide what you are, what you feel, what you think. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid it does. Does this make sense?” Drawing her into his arms, he claimed her lips with his in a long, slow kiss that left no doubt in her mind that he was serious, and that, if he had his way, he would never let her go.
~ * ~
Sunday morning, Bryn woke smiling. She and Conor had talked far into the night.
She had asked him some of the questions she had asked Saintcrow, just to see if Conor’s answers were the same as his father’s.
And they were. They had spent a long time in each other’s arms, each kiss and each caress making her want him more.
His body was so tempting, all that muscular male flesh, the silk of his hair, the pleasure of his mouth on hers.
Not to mention the way she melted at his touch, the wonder of his kisses, the husky sound of his voice when he whispered that he loved her. How would she ever let him go?
Needing something else to think about, she called her sister and had a nice, long chat, then called her parents, something she didn’t do often enough.
Later, sitting on the sofa, she switched on the music channel on the TV, willing the hours to hurry by so she could see Conor again.
What was it really like to be a vampire?
Did he miss the sunlight? Food? Sure, it would be nice to have all those supernatural abilities.
Who didn’t grow up wishing they could fly?
Or change shape? As a little girl, she had often pretended to be a horse, galloping around the playground.
If she became a vampire, would she still feel like herself?
Or would she feel different? She would still look human but she wouldn’t be mortal.
There would be a gulf between her and her loved ones, a chasm she couldn’t cross.
What would her parents think? What would Rae think?
Feeling a headache coming on, she closed her eyes...
She was happily walking along a narrow path in a heavily-wooded forest when the world suddenly went dark.
Filled with apprehension, she came to an abrupt halt as she realized she was lost. She glanced around, but nothing looked familiar.
The sky was dark. The air cold. Even the trees seemed suddenly ominous.
She let out a startled cry when a man materialized in front of her – a man with inky black hair and midnight blue eyes. Conor.
She felt a moment of relief. Relief that quickly turned to terror when his eyes took on a faint red glow. He smiled wolfishly and she saw his fangs, bright-white and razor sharp.
She took a hasty step back. But it was too late. In a blur of movement too fast for her to follow, he was there beside her. His arm was like steel around her.
“Mine,” he said, his voice like rolling thunder. “You were meant to be mine.”
She let out a hoarse cry as he sank his fangs into her throat and drank. And drank...
Bryn woke with a cry, her gaze darting around the room. “A dream,” she murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. “Just a dream.”
Conor called her as soon as the sun went down. Bryn stared at her phone, the memory of her dream fresh in her mind. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, it was just her imagination. Chiding herself for being such a ninny, she picked up the phone. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he said. “All right if I come over?”
Again, she hesitated.
“Bryn?”
“Sure.” She had to see him again, to assure herself that he wasn’t the monster in her nightmare.
“Have you had dinner?”
“Yes. See you when you get here.”
She had expected him to arrive in moments, but it was half an hour later when he knocked on the door. Her heart leaped when she saw him standing there, as handsome as ever, his midnight-blue eyes smiling at her as he handed her a bakery box.
“What’s this?”
“I thought you might like some dessert.”
“That was so sweet of you,” she said. Especially when he couldn’t eat it. Carrying the box into the kitchen, she set it on the counter and lifted the lid. “Lemon meringue,” she said. “My favorite. How did you know?”
He shrugged.
Her gaze met his. “You read my mind again, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged. How else would I know what you liked?”
“You could have asked.”
He didn’t miss the sharpness of her tone. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He sounded so contrite, she smiled as she closed the box. “I’ll have some later,” she said, putting the pie in the fridge.
Conor followed her into the living room and sat beside her on the sofa. He’d just promised not to read her mind, but he knew something was troubling her. He could smell her distress. But a promise was a promise. “How was your day?”
“Quiet. I called my mom and dad and my sister. Read a little. Thought about you. Do you still feel like you?”
“Yes. And no. But I’d rather talk about you. About us. Bryn, say you’ll be mine and I’ll spend my whole life making you happy.”
“Your whole life.” She eased out of his embrace.
“Your father has lived for a thousand years. You could live that long, too. But I’ll get old.
And wrinkled. And sick. And you’ll always be strong and healthy and twenty-five.
How will you feel when I look like your mother and then your grandmother? How will I feel?”
Shit. He had no answer for that except the obvious one.
She didn’t have to read his mind to know what his solution was. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“You might feel differently later. Why grow old if you don’t have to? My blood can–”
“Yes, your father told me about that.” She shuddered at the thought of drinking his blood.
“You might like it.”
She glared at him. “Stop reading my mind!”
“Sorry.” He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “Want to try it?”
“No, thank you.”
“Want to let me taste yours?”
“No!”
He laughed, but there was little humor in it. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Aren’t you even a little curious? Be honest.” He bit the end of his forefinger. “I know you’ve tasted your own blood at one time or another. Everybody does.”
Bryn stared at the fat drop of dark red blood that oozed from the tiny wound. She was shocked by her sudden desire to taste it.
Conor’s smile was a trifle smug. “Go ahead,” he invited, and held out his hand.
Before she could change her mind, Bryn leaned forward and licked the bit of red. It was hot on her tongue. When she swallowed, she felt the heat of it all the way down. It was strangely satisfying.
Conor smiled at her. “See? It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“No.” It had been quite pleasant, but she refused to tell him so.
“My turn now?” he asked.
She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want to be a vampire!”
“It won’t make you a vampire,” he assured her. “There’s a lot more to it than that. Please, Bryn?”
“I don’t think I can bite myself that hard.”
“Let me.”
Bryn held her breath as he took her left hand in his and bit the tip of her thumb. She noticed her blood was a much brighter red than his just before he suckled her thumb. It did strange things in the pit of her stomach.
After what seemed like a very long time, he lifted his head and smiled at her. And then, murmuring, “Thank you,” he kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that she felt long after he had said goodnight.
~ * ~
Conor strolled down the dark street, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.
Maybe there was hope for him after all. Bryn hadn’t rejected him out of hand.
She’d been willing to taste his blood and let him have a little taste of hers.
And damn, it had been better than anything else he’d ever known.
It had flowed through him like sunshine, warming all the dark places, filling the emptiness.
He had the feeling that if he could drink a little from her every day, he’d never have to hunt again.
He laughed softly. That was probably just wishful thinking, but, damn, he yearned to taste her again.
If she would let him, he’d do his best to make her happy as long as she lived.
And if prayers were answered, the day would come when she would accept the dark gift.
He could think of nothing better than spending centuries with the woman he loved.
He didn’t know how it had happened so fast, but he loved her wholly, completely.
If she refused him, he had the feeling he would spend the rest of his existence alone.
He thrust the thought aside.
For now at least, he had hope.