“Kate,” he said again. “Can’t you try? Try to trust me just a little bit? This is going to be a hell of a difficult trip if you can’t.”
I took a deep breath, making sure I expanded my diaphragm, held it and counted to ten. Then I let it out slowly, counting backwards to one. I had taken exactly one Yoga class before I decided contorting myself into new and interesting shapes on a mat for relaxation wasn’t for me. The breathing thing was what I got out of it and it was worth the twenty-five dollars and fifty cents the class cost me just to learn that.
“Kate?” Michael sounded doubtful.
“All right,” I said at last. “But can you drive a stick?”
Chapter Thirteen
It took me a while, but I finally felt myself drifting off to sleep in the passenger’s side seat. The sun shining through the windows blanketed me in warmth, caressing my arms and legs and chest—all the parts of me that were usually kept covered by the suit— like a gentle, affectionate hand and it was just too much to resist. At first I kept jerking awake and glancing at Michael, but he was always looking straight ahead, driving quietly and competently. He didn’t even squint in the bright sunlight.
I had found a pair of sunglasses in my dash and offered them to him but he only shook his head.
“Nah, don’t need ‘em,” he’d said, so I put them on myself. Talk about an atypical vamp—maybe he was something new. But the empty water bottles rattling around in the back seat of the Charger sounded like the clicking of bones.
It made me nervous.
But nervous or not, I couldn’t help succumbing to the warmth of the sun and the steady rhythm of the car. I was absolutely exhausted both emotionally and physically. More than anything else, the shock of The Monsignor’s betrayal had sapped my strength. I couldn’t remember feeling so hurt and worn down since the night of my Uncle Harry’s death, four years before.
The next time I woke up it was almost six o’clock and Michael was shaking me gently and calling my name.
“Huh?” I sat up, awake all at once and ready to kick ass. I reached for my Glock, only to discover it wasn’t in its usual holster at my side. In fact, the holster was gone too. And so were my clothes. I looked down to see that instead of my black vinyl slayer suit, I was wearing somebody’s idea of a sick joke—a pink sundress.
Then everything came rushing back to me at once. I was dressed like Strawberry Shortcake and riding in a car with a vampire who I was currently on the run with because my former boss and mentor had betrayed me and now wanted me dead. Talk about your life taking a ninety degree turn for the worse.
Michael had stopped the car at a place called “Billy Pig’s Barbeque Shack” a few miles off the interstate. There was a huge pink pig on the sign above the door with a big stupid grin plastered across his face. He seemed to be inviting you in to have a bite of his less fortunate relations.
“You all right?” Michael was looking at me a little anxiously.
“Fine.” I stretched and rubbed my eyes. “Just stiff. And sore.” I looked down at my skin and groaned. “Crap—I think I’m burned.” It was true—my usually corpse white epidermis was almost as pink as the dress I was wearing. My transformation to Strawberry Shortcake was complete.
Michael took my arm and looked at it critically for a moment. “You got a little more sun than you’re used to, I guess. Sorry, I should have noticed that.”
“Did you burn at all?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I always just tan.”
Great, I was riding with a vampire and I was the one that got sunburned.
Irony anyone?
I took off the sunglasses and flipped down the visor to catch a look at myself in the mirror. Sure enough—I looked like a reverse raccoon with white circles around my blue eyes, highlighting my pink cheeks.
Red, white, and blue. My, my, wasn’t I patriotic.
“Does it hurt?” Michael asked.
I shrugged and winced. “It’s not great but I’ve had worse. Mainly I just need to get something to put on it.”
“Well, I think this is a convenience station as well as a restaurant. Maybe you can get some aloe vera gel while I gas up the car. Are you hungry?”
I gave him a level stare.
“Are you?”
He shrugged, obviously trying to appear unconcerned.
“I could eat.”
We would see about that.
“Where are we, anyway?” I asked, as I eyed the Barbeque Shack with distaste. I’m not a big fan of covering an honest piece of meat up with sauce so you can’t see what the hell you’re eating.
“Somewhere in Georgia,” Michael told me, already going around to the gas tank. He reached in the pocket of his jeans and tried to hand me a traveler’s check. “Tell them we need twenty on pump five.”
I waved him off. “I’ve got it,” I said, producing two twenties.
He grinned. “All right, but I’m paying next time. We can’t go Dutch forever.”
“Ha-ha,” I said, irked by his implication that this was just one big long cross-country first date.
I sauntered into the convenience store part of the Barbeque Shack and paid for the gas first so Michael could pump before going to peruse the pitiful selection of over-priced first aid products. What little they had was right next to a huge rack of dried meat strips that appeared to come from a local dealer. It didn’t take me long to lose interest in the aloe gel as I stared in disgust at the meat.
Now, I’m not knocking the South. I was born right in St. Joe’s hospital in Tampa and I’ve lived south of the Mason Dixon line all my life. But I am a city girl, not a country one. I have a low tolerance for pick-up trucks, country music, and men who chew tobacco. Uncle Harry had taught me to appreciate the beauty of a fine Cuban cigar on occasion but that was as far as I went. Putting that stuff in your mouth is disgusting.
But chewing tobacco would have been a hundred times better than some of the dried meat I saw hanging from the rack. It looked like a selection of shrunken heads from a culinary conscious witch doctor.
There was rattlesnake and alligator. Okay—I’m from Florida where people eat gator, I could deal with that. But then I saw something that still had a tail on it—a long, skinny naked tail. My God—was it even legal to sell something like that in a public place?
“That there’s ‘possum,” said a voice from behind me.
I turned to see a tall man with squinting, faded blue eyes and a sweat-ringed NASCAR ballcap parked on his bullet head. He was wearing worn jeans that had seen better days and what had been a long-sleeved red and white plaid shirt. Both sleeves had been cut off it, revealing slab-like arms and the front of the shirt was stretched tight over his protruding belly. Either he was eight months along or he really liked his beer.
“’Possum?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Yup. It’s good for what ails ya.” He grinned, revealing teeth that plainly showed he didn’t share my reservations about chewing tobacco. Or else maybe he just didn’t like toothbrushes. Either way, his breath was enough to knock me over. I thought about asking if a big bite of ‘’possum’ would cure that, and thought better of it. Maybe that was what had caused it in the first place.
“Well, it’s certainly…different,” I said diplomatically and went pointedly back to my perusal of the sunburn gels. I picked one that looked the least sticky and studied the ingredients.
“Whatcha got there?” ‘Possum Breath asked, leaning over my shoulder. Apparently he was feeling talkative.
“I got a sunburn so I’m getting some gel for it,” I said. He was beginning to really annoy me. I wished I had on my suit, which is full of nasty little surprises for idiots like him as well as vamps. I felt naked and unprotected as a clam without its shell in the stupid pink sundress.
What I really needed was a t-shirt to put over it. I spotted a rack of souvenir tees, three for ten dollars and headed for it, hoping my redneck friend would take the hint and leave me alone.
>
No such luck.
“So, what kinda gel ya got there, angel? Gonna do the trick?” he asked, leering at me while I flipped through the tees.
Angel? I gave him a glare before going back to the tees.
“It’ll do. Do you mind leaving me alone now?”
I was holding onto my temper with both hands. If this idiot thought I was a pretty young defenseless thing that wouldn’t kick his ass if he tried something funny, he had another think coming.
“Cain’t do it.” He grinned at me again. “See, how can I leave you alone with that gel and no big strong man to rub it all over your pretty little body?”
That was it—he was toast. I turned to hand him his ass on a platter when Michael was suddenly there between us.
“The lady is spoken for,” he said. His tone was oddly formal but there was a layer of menace in his deep voice that I had never heard before.
‘Possum Breath bristled and drew himself up to his full height.
“Says who, buddy?”
“Me—I say so. She’s taken so back off.” There was nothing formal about Michael’s tone now. As I watched he seemed to grow bigger somehow and the vamp glow which had been hardly noticeable, began to light up his eyes like green beacons. His fangs were coming out too as he snarled in the redneck’s face.
It was a truly frightening sight.
“Maybe I don’t want to, hotshot,” ‘Possum Breath growled back. He didn’t sound too sure of himself but we had an audience now—several other customers of the Barbeque Shack had gathered to watch the fun—so PB wasn’t about to back down.
Crap—the last thing I needed was to cause a scene that other people would remember. And a scene involving a six foot four vampire with blazing green eyes and three inch fangs was sure to be a memorable occasion. Of course, a scene with a five foot six girl kicking a hairy smelly redneck’s ass might tend to stick in your mind too. Maybe discretion was the better part of valor here. There was only one thing to do and I hated like hell to do it.
“Honey,” I said, hooking my arm through Michael’s and trying to sound girly. “I think this is all just a big misunderstanding. This nice man was just trying to help me pick out the right suntan lotion. He didn’t know I was here with you.”
Michael took his eyes off the bristling redneck to look down at me in surprise. I felt his bicep, which had been rock-hard beneath my hand, begin to loosen up and his eyes lost some of their glow.
“Is…is that right?” he asked, his voice easing up from the menacing growl and into a more normal register.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded my head vigorously, trying to look cutesy and dumb.
“Uh, yeah,” ‘PB put in. “I was just tryin’ to help the little lady decide on a lotion. I didn’t know she was with anybody.”
Clearly he didn’t really want to tangle with Michael—nobody in their right mind would’ve wanted to after seeing him ‘vamp out’ the way he had a moment before.
“Well, if that’s the way it happened…” Michael seemed willing to be convinced.
“Yup, that’s the way it happened, all right.” I put my arms around his neck and pulled him into a clinging hug. “So don’t be a big meany and make a fuss—all right?”
“A big meany?” His eyebrows were reaching for his hairline at this point but his arms had slipped around me, pulling me close to his big body.
Uh-oh, now I was in trouble but we still had an audience so there wasn’t much I could do.
“Well…see ya.” ‘Possum Breath was edging away which should have been Michael’s cue to let me go. Instead he pulled me closer. I could feel every single one of his muscles pressed hard against me—and I do mean every single one.
“Michael, honey?” My voice came out in a breathless squeak and I could feel my heart pounding hard against my ribs.
“Mm-hm?” He bent his face to nuzzle his cheek against mine. The rough stubble of his five ‘o clock shadow scratched my tender sunburned skin. He smelled incredible—like salt and musk and clean sweat and leather.
“Michael, this probably isn’t the best place for this,” I said, or rather, panted. I didn’t like the way my body reacted to him—to being so close to him. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to run away or jump his bones right there. I shouldn’t be feeling this way—not about a vampire, I reminded myself. But my body didn’t seem to be very interested in what my mind had to say.
Then his lips parted and I felt the sharp brush of his fangs against my neck. All the nice warm feelings that had been rushing through me stopped abruptly and my blood turned to ice. I reached up between us, pretending I was caressing the side of his face until my thumb was in position right over his left eye.
“Back away from me slowly,” I said in a voice low enough that only he could hear it. Most of our audience had dissipated earlier when it became apparent there wasn’t going to be a fight, but I didn’t want to bring them running back again.
“What?” Michael sounded confused.
“You heard me,” I said in the same low, threatening tone. “I have my thumb right over your eye and I promise you I’ll pop it like a grape if you try anything.”
“What are you talking about?” He pulled back from me abruptly and looked at me like I was crazy. I could see the confusion in his eyes. I didn’t move my thumb though.
“I’m talking about the fact that you need to step away from me right now,” I said. “And get your fangs away from my neck.”
He put up a hand to his mouth and winced as his fingertips encountered the razor-sharp tips.
“Damn, I forgot about those.” He sounded apologetic.
“Sure you did.” He’d loosened his grip on me and I was able to slip away in what I hoped was a casual way. Nothing to see here folks. Just a girl and her boyfriend shopping in the local Barbeque Shack. Yee-haw.
“No, I did.” Michael took a step towards me and I stepped back just as fast, putting the tee-shirt rack between us. “Kate, please, you have to believe me. I just got caught up in hugging you. You felt so good, so soft in my arms. I wanted to smell your hair—that’s all. Biting you was the last thing on my mind.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand and for a moment I felt myself melting. Then I caught a glimpse of fang beneath his upper lip and my resolve hardened.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I said, meaning never. “Right now I have to buy this gel and put it on before I start to peel. Why don’t you get us a table and some menus?” I jerked my head in the direction of the restaurant part of the Barbeque Shack.
“Fine.” He gave me one last look, half hurt, half angry, and stalked away. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, doing the Yoga breathing thing again. Just as I was about to go pay, I remembered my original intention to get a tee-shirt to cover the horrible pink sundress. I grabbed the biggest one I could find and headed for the counter.
Chapter Fourteen
I came out of the Barbeque Shack’s bathroom, which was as disgusting as you might imagine, feeling sticky and grumpy and nasty. I had smeared the aloe gel over my arms and legs and put on my new t-shirt and now I was ready to eat some Barbeque. Or at least some French fries. Greasy, yes. But at least dunking something in hot grease and frying the holy hell out of it killed the germs. And after seeing the Shack’s bathroom, that was my main agenda.
Michael was sitting in a plastic booth perusing a tattered menu with a thoughtful expression on his face. At his side by the metal napkin holder were three empty water glasses and he was just finishing a fourth. That didn’t look like a hopeful sign to me.
“Still thirsty?” I asked as I slid into the booth across from him. The gel on my arms and legs had dried to what felt like a crack-glaze, possibly one of the least comfortable sensations I’d ever experienced.
“A little,” Michael replied, a bit too casually. He glanced up at me, obviously set to say something, then his full mouth started to twitch at the corners. Before I could ask what was wrong, he started to laugh.
“What?”
I frowned fiercely at him. I had been expecting a fight or at the very least the cold shoulder—either of those I could have handled. But I didn’t care to be laughed at.
“Your shirt.” He grabbed a napkin and blotted his eyes. “I’m sorry but it’s just…let’s just say it fits you very well.”
I looked down at the black t-shirt that fell to my thighs, nearly covering the infamous pink sundress completely. On the front in white block letters were the words, Does Not Play Well With Others. Against my will, I found myself grinning too.
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I was looking for the biggest one I could find—wanted to cover this damn dress.”
“The dress doesn’t look that bad, you know.” He smiled at me, his fangs barely visible. “It actually looks kind of cute with your pink cheeks.”
“Pink cheeks? Crap.” I reached up to feel my hot face and realized I’d forgotten to put aloe gel there. The last thing I needed on top of everything else was a peeling nose. “I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbing the tube of gel I’d put down on the table.
“Wait.” His hand on mine stopped me from sliding out of the booth. “Let me,” he said. “Please?”
I guess it was the please that got me. Or maybe I felt sorry for misunderstanding his intentions earlier. But for whatever reason, I handed him the tube of gel and closed my eyes. “Don’t put it on too thick,” I said.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m a trained medical professional, remember?” His voice was soft, almost as soft as his touch. I caught my breath as his long, warm fingers smoothed the cool gel over my flushed cheeks. He was gentle—much gentler than he had a right to be, considering what he was. No man had touched me so tenderly since my Uncle Harry had died. But he isn’t a man, I reminded myself sternly. Not anymore.
“You’re really beautiful, you know?” Michael said, his fingers still dancing lightly over my cheekbones and forehead.
Blood Kiss Page 8