by Laura Kaye
She watched him out of those enormous expressive eyes. And he knew she would spend the day with him. All he had to do was ask, and he could have anything he wanted from her.
Her body and her blood.
A wave of heat washed over him, and for a moment his resolve weakened and a slow fire started in his belly. He shook his head—this would only make the inevitable parting harder. Only minutes ago, he’d decided they could have no future. Most of his existence, he had taken what he wanted and not thought about the price. Now he found he didn’t want Tara to pay.
Did he sleep alone? He rose to his feet. “Always.”
Chapter Twelve
Tara woke up in her old bed. Snow was falling again, swirling against the glass, obscuring the outside world. Chloe hadn’t been far wrong—perhaps the snow would strand them together, cut off from everything. It should have sounded romantic, until she remembered the speed he’d shut the door in her face the previous evening.
Talk about mixed signals—first the kisses, then the brush off.
She should have left it when he’d told her he always slept alone, but no, she’d pushed. She hated it, really hated it, when people said they were doing something for “your own good.” Her aunt had used the phrase all the time. Tara was quite capable of making up her own mind. If he didn’t want her after all, she’d rather he came right out and said it.
Yesterday, she’d decided to keep the relationship with Christian on a strict business footing. Now, after a few kisses, she was miffed because he’d insisted on sleeping in the cellar alone. Not that she wanted to sleep in the cellar. The place was nothing but a dark hole under the ground—it should fit Christian to perfection.
After showering and dressing in warm clothes, she went outside to decide what she was going to do. She left the gardens by a small gate that opened onto the moors, but stayed close to the house. Having grown up around here, she knew how little it took for the weather to turn hazardous. Instead, she headed toward a former haven—a huge rocky outcrop that overlooked the village below.
Standing on the edge, she surveyed the picture-pretty village. There was a pub, and a café, a post office, none of which she’d ever entered. How many days had she lain on this rock gazing down and dreaming of a normal life?
It was strange coming back here. She’d built it up to be terrible, but she’d had a happy childhood. For a dead woman, Aunt Kathy had been amazingly kind.
What else was she going to find out about herself? Had her mother, whoever she was, gotten mixed up in the supernatural world and tried to protect her daughter? And who was her father?
She remembered Christian’s expression when she took the talisman off last time: Shock and fear. Would it be any better the next? It made no difference. She would remove the talisman and break Rule Number Three. But she’d persuade Christian to take her to the pub. They could have a drink together—a drink with normal people.
Well—normal people and a vampire.
…
“You want to go to the pub?” Christian stared at her as if she was a crazy woman, as if she’d asked for something weird.
“It’s what normal people do.”
“It may have escaped your notice, but I am not a normal person.”
Once again, he was dressed in black, all six-foot-four of him. She doubted that the villagers of Shelby had ever come across anyone quite like him before, but she didn’t want to go alone. “You can pretend, can’t you?”
“You want to have a drink?”
“No, I don’t want to have a drink, but that’s not the point. I’ve never been to the pub in Shelby, or the café, or even the post office. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I take off the talisman, but I have a feeling it isn’t going to be any kind of normal. So first, I’d like you to take me to the pub, and we can both pretend for a couple of hours.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes settled on her mouth. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it, and small flames flickered to life in her belly. “Will I get a goodnight kiss at the end of it?”
Tara swayed toward him until he was so close she could see the black circle around his silver eyes.
He stepped back and shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Disappointment tore through her, and it took her a moment to realize he’d agreed. “Right, I’ll go get changed.”
Christian raised an eyebrow. “Will I need to change?”
“No,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re perfect as you are.”
…
They drove down into the village and parked outside The Coachman’s Arms. As they stepped into the pub, all faces turned to stare at them. Perhaps it would have been a good idea for Christian to change his clothes after all, though Tara doubted he possessed anything that would blend in with this particular setting. With his tall, broad figure and the black leather trench coat, he appeared exotic and a little dangerous. In fact, he stood out like a panther at a garden party. He couldn’t even take the coat off as she had seen what was underneath.
“I don’t go anywhere unarmed,” he’d replied when she suggested that he might want to leave the gun behind. At that point, it had occurred to her that she might have been better off leaving him behind, never mind the gun.
The pub was small and snug with a long wood bar at one end and a small spattering of tables. The walls were dark red with horse brasses hanging from hooks and pictures of the moors. Christian had to duck as they crossed the room to avoid the low wooden beams. She found an empty table and pushed him toward it. “Sit down. I’ll get us a drink.”
She bought Christian a beer and herself a Coke and could feel the barman’s eyes—along with everyone else’s—on her as she made her way back across the room. .
Christian took his drink and eyed her glass as she sat.
“What?” she said. “I like Coke.”
“Some supernatural beings react to alcohol.”
“In what way?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. Why couldn’t they chat about the weather or something?
“Demons go crazy. It brings out their darker side.”
“It’s a good job I’m not a demon, then. I just passed out, and that was bad enough.”
He looked around the bar. “Do you know any of these people?”
“I recognize some of them. Most people have lived here all their lives.”
“So they would have been around back when you were born?”
“I suppose so. Do you think they might remember anything?”
“Newcomers are always noticed in these sorts of places. Do you want to try?”
She did. A pang of excitement jolted through her at the thought that someone might remember them coming all those years ago. There were only about fifteen people in the pub. Some, like the barman, were too young but most were quite elderly. She wasn’t very good at approaching people, a hang-up from Rule Number Four—never talk to strangers—but there was one man seated at the bar who caught her eye and raised his glass. He appeared to be in his fifties, so he should remember her moving here with her aunt. Without giving herself time to think, she got to her feet and walked across to him.
“Hello,” she said.
He nodded. “Evening.”
“I wondered if you’d mind talking with me for a moment. My name’s Tara, I used to live at the house on the tor.”
“I know the house.”
God, this was hard. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Glancing at the barman, he raised his glass. The barman poured him a pint and put it down in front of them.
“Would you mind talking to my friend as well?”
He looked across at Christian, who, to give him credit, wasn’t doing anything obvious to draw attention to himself. “No problem.”
Christian stood as they approached and nodded. They all sat down.
“I’m Ted Carter,” he said.
“Christian Roth.”
“Well then, what can I tell you?”
“My aunt died recently—”
“Aye, I know, and we were all sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. My aunt was a very private person and didn’t tell me much about my family. I was wondering if you remember when she came here.”
“Of course I do. It was the talk of the village for a while. Not that she ever gave us much to talk about, she kept to herself.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Well, they both did.”
“Both?”
“Your aunt and your mother. At least, I presume it was your mother. She was pregnant at the time, heavily pregnant, and she had a look of you about her.”
Tara went still. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that someone would remember her mother. “Can you tell me about her?”
“Not much to tell, I’m afraid. I only saw her once, but she did stick in my mind. She was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, a small smile playing across his features. “I think we all fell in love with her just from that one sighting. She was like something from another world, too good for this one.” He shook his head. “It’s not like me to be fanciful, but she had that effect.” He gave a rueful smile, pulled himself back from the past, and focused on Tara. “She was a lot like you, you know. A tiny little thing. With hair so blond it was almost silver and long, right down her back. Like yours used to be when you lived here, and her eyes were the exact color of yours, like new spring grass.”
Tara blinked back tears and took a gulp of coke. “Sorry,” she said. “But no one’s ever spoken to me of my mother before. Can you remember anything else?”
“She carried a big gray cat, cuddled it the whole time, and she seemed sad.”
Had she known then that she would never see her child grow up? “Do you know what happened to her?”
He shook his head. “I told you, they kept to themselves. Bill Tyler used to do the deliveries up there. He told us once that he heard a baby crying in the house. That wasn’t long after they moved here, but no one ever saw your mother again. Never saw much of your aunt either. Though we did see you.”
“You did?”
“Aye, on and off we’d see you running wild on the moors. Or sitting on that big rock watching us all. Some of us wanted to do something about you—it didn’t seem right you spending all that time alone, not going to school, but we were told it was all in order, your aunt was teaching you.”
“Yes, she did.”
“It still didn’t seem right, but what could we do, and you seemed healthy and happy enough.”
“I was. Happy I mean, at least most of the time.”
“Good.”
Tara tried to make sense of what she had learned. What had happened to her mother? Could she have given birth and simply abandoned her daughter? What could make any woman do that? Perhaps she had hated Tara’s father, whoever he was, and staying with Tara would have reminded her of him every day. So she left, and maybe, even now, she was alive somewhere.
But Tara knew in her heart that her mother hadn’t abandoned her. At least, not voluntarily. She knew it with a certainty, and a deep well of grief rose within her. She swallowed back the tears. How could you grieve for a mother you’d never known?
Christian had told her that someone had gone to a lot of bother to hide her, keep her safe. Her mother must have cared for her enough to try to protect her, but from what?
She ran her hands through her hair, pressing her scalp to relieve the tension.
“Are you all right?” Christian watched her closely.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged. “I’ll go get another round in, shall I? Mr. Carter?”
He nodded and Tara jumped to her feet and headed to the bar. When she returned, she put the drinks onto the table and slipped into her seat.
“So, I reckon you would notice any newcomers around here?” Christian asked.
“Too right. We’re not exactly on the tourist track.”
Christian took a sip of his beer. “Have you noticed any other strangers recently?”
Ted Carter gave him a sharp look. “Not recently, no.”
Christian smiled. “How about a few months ago, around about the time Tara left.”
The other man nodded slowly. “Aye, we had a few strange types asking questions around about then.”
Tara frowned. “Questions about what?”
“I never spoke to them.” He looked thoughtful for a minute. “Do you mind if I invite someone over to join us?”
“Of course not,” Tara answered.
He crossed the room, returning a few minutes later with a middle-aged man and woman. “This is Bill Tyler and his wife, Jean.” He smiled. “Jean, you might be interested to know, is the teacher at the village school, and one of the main voices calling for something to be done about you.”
“You should have gone to school,” the woman said.
Both men rolled their eyes as if to say, here we go again.
“Right then,” Ted said. “Bill here was the one who spoke to the strangers.”
“What did they want?” Christian asked.
Bill glanced across at Tara. “It was strange. They turned up the day after you left, but they didn’t ask about you specifically, in fact, they didn’t seem to know much about what they wanted. Asked if we’d noticed anything strange in the area recently.” He grinned. “I said they were the strangest things we’d seen in a while. Weren’t too pleased about that.”
“What did you tell them?” Christian asked, and an undercurrent of darkness threaded through his voice.
Bill raised one eyebrow. “Nothing. We don’t speak to outsiders, but it was more than that. I didn’t like them. Straight off there was something not quite right, like they were looking down their noses at us. Anyway, that was the first lot.”
He sat back and took a swallow of his drink.
“There were more I presume?” Tara sensed Christian’s impatience. She was surprised the others couldn’t.
“Aye, a day later, but these seemed to know a whole lot more. Asked about anyone who had come to the area in the last twenty-two years.” He took another sip of his drink. “Then they asked about your mother.”
Tara sat up. “What?”
“Gave a spot-on description. They obviously knew her, but they didn’t mention your aunt. Or you, for that matter.” He turned back to Christian. “And before you ask, no we didn’t tell them anything either.”
Christian smiled.
“So,” Bill said, “do you know these people?”
Christian stared into the man’s eyes. Bill shook his head in some confusion. Christian turned to the others and held their gazes for a moment.
“Right,” Bill said, “Where were we? Oh yes, you asked about the weather, and no it’s not typical, very unusual to have this much snow, this early.”
Tara looked from him to Christian. The latter smiled at her, and she realized with a jolt that she had just seen vampire powers in action. He had wiped their brains of the conversation. Without any effort.
“Okay,” Bill said. “My round.”
Chapter Thirteen
“That was amazing,” Tara said as she let them into the house.
She’d been silent on the way home, deliberately not thinking about all she had learned earlier in the evening. Instead, she’d concentrated on the pleasure of just talking with ordinary people. They’d all been so nice, and in the end, a group of them gathered around the table, chatting and laughing. She’d learned more about the village and its inhabitants tonight than in the twenty-two years she’d lived there. She’d also come away with two invitations to dinner.
Christian had been perfectly behaved, silent for the most part. No doubt he’d wrapped himself in some sort of vampire invisibility thing. Still, dinner with Jean and Bill might stretch his normal abilities beyond the breaking point.
Tara unwrapped her scarf, took off her coat, and turned to find Christian studying her. His half-closed eyes
gleamed in the dim light and for a brief second, he allowed her to see his hunger for her.
Heat washed through her, and she swallowed, hard.
Okay, maybe she’d already stretched him too far because he appeared way beyond normal now. His smile revealed a brief flash of fangs, and the blood thickened in her veins until she could feel it thundering through her body.
His gaze still on her, Christian shrugged out of his coat, unbuckled the shoulder holster, and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. His movements were graceful but gave the impression of leashed power, barely controlled, seething just below the surface. What would he be like if he released all that power? Instead of frightening her, the thought made her temperature climb even higher.
“Are you ready to do this?” Christian murmured.
She knew he meant the talisman. Or at least she thought he did.
He stared at her throat as though he could already taste her blood. Then he moved to stand beside her, leaning his long body against the solid wooden table, arms crossed over his broad chest, his hooded eyes locked on hers.
“I suppose so, but first—”
“Yes?”
“Will you kiss me?”
Shock flashed across his features then he smiled. “You mean like the end of a date?”
“Maybe, I’ve never actually had a date, but I’m sort of scared of what you’re going to find when I take off the talisman, and maybe you won’t want to kiss me afterward.”
“Come here,” he ordered, his voice low, mesmerizing. She entwined her fingers with his and he tugged her closer until she almost touched him. “I can smell your blood.”
“Nice.”
He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear then stroked one long finger down the soft skin of her neck. At his touch, her blood caught fire; she lifted her chin and bared her throat. He bent down and his cool breath shivered across her heated flesh. For a moment, she thought he was going to take what she offered. Instead, he kissed her where the blood pounded so close to the surface, and whispered against her ear. “Soon.”
Sliding his hands around her shoulders, he held her still. His mouth hovered over hers, and she trembled in anticipation. He kissed her, just the fleeting meeting of their mouths, before drawing back, teasing her, tempting her so she leaned closer to him. She needed to feel him against her, all of him, but he held her away and kissed her again, his mouth tasting hers, lingering for a moment then retreating. It was intense, beautiful, and in no way was it enough. He raised his head and stared into her eyes.