by Heidi Lowe
Then, remembering I still had data to enter into the computer, I jumped off the counter and went back to work while he asked questions about vampirism that he'd always been curious about, mostly pertaining to sex. He'd always had an obsession with the sex lives of vampires.
Once the work was done, I switched everything off and closed up.
"You didn't say how long you're staying for," I said, as we waited for our cab.
"Just a few days. Samantha has to get back to work..."
I stopped walking.
"You brought her...here?"
"I wanted you to meet her. She's back at the house with Jean," he said casually, as though it was nothing.
"So that's still a thing?"
Beneath the streetlight I could clearly see his glower and pout. He even stood with his hands on his hips! And this guy expected me to believe that he'd suddenly fallen for a woman?
"I thought we were past this, but obviously not," he said.
I threw up my hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I won't say anything else about it."
"Oh, right, like that's going to stop you getting your opinion across. You're the most passive aggressive person I know, Rowan. It's what you don't say that bugs the crap out of me."
I couldn't help but laugh, and because I did, he did too. We never stayed mad at each other for long, not when we were together.
We sat on the ice-cold sidewalk and waited for the cab.
"So you're done with men?" I asked. He offered me some gum out of habit.
"What sort of question is that? I'm done with everyone, Lissa. I'm in a relationship."
This didn't sound anything like him. He sounded so...grown up.
"It's just weird, is all. I mean, you love men. I just don't get it."
"Because you don't want to." He turned me to look at him, his eyes serious. "Think about it like this: no one would have imagined that you would fall in love with a vampire. Not after what happened to your dad. Well, at least what you thought happened to him. Then Jean came along."
"It's not the same," I said grumpily.
We sat in silence, and then the cab came. We didn't mention his girlfriend once on the ride home, but she remained at the back of my mind the whole time. I couldn't believe he'd brought her with him. Now we wouldn't be able to talk candidly, because she would always be there.
My mood didn't change when we got home, and she greeted Petr with a hug and a kiss, as though they had been apart for months.
Jean pulled me into a kiss of my own, ending my scowling session at the happy pair, and promptly reminding me how it felt to be madly in love.
We left them in the living-room and went to make them drinks and snacks. The whole time the sound of Samantha's high-pitched, over-the-top laugh filtered into the kitchen, and grated on my nerves.
"She's so annoying," I grumbled, as I poured chips into a bowl. When you're in a bad mood, everything starts getting to you. I'd stopped craving actual food a while back, but the smell of potato chips suddenly made my mouth water. The fact that I couldn't enjoy them and Samantha could, with my best friend, only added to my ire.
Jean laughed. It was weird seeing her prepare snacks herself. Sandra had the night off.
"What's so funny?" I said.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." She tried to keep a straight face when she looked at me, but a smile battled to get out. Her lips twitched, and her eyes glistened with amusement.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" I crossed my arms.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you're acting like a five-year-old. I didn't realize what a hard time you have with sharing."
In the past, she never would have called me out on my crap, but our relationship had matured so much that she felt comfortable putting me in my place, and I wasn't as sensitive.
"You don't get it. But why would you?"
She frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Yeah, what did I mean? "Well, I had no one growing up, no one who got me. Then he walked into my life, and I didn't feel so alone anymore. I've been the only woman in his life for the past seven years. I'm sorry if I have a hard time sharing him." I couldn't look at her because her disappointment in me was horrible to see.
With one finger, she lifted my head. "He isn't the only person you have now, Lissa. Try and be happy for him."
I nodded, as though hypnotized by the softness of her voice and eyes. Anything this woman wanted from me, I would give her, with bells on! She made me so obedient without even trying.
That didn't mean this Samantha character was off the hook. When we returned to the lounge, the two lovers were lip-locked, smooching like teenagers. I wanted to throw up all over Samantha's knock-off Louis Vuitton purse!
I sat on Jean's lap without her permission, knowing she wouldn't have a problem with it.
"Samantha was telling me about the equestrian contests she won back in Ireland," Jean said, resting her hands on my thighs.
Samantha blushed. "I've lost a lot more than I've won," she said with what I was certain was false modesty. Fake smile, fake bag, false modesty. Yeah, I had her number. "And you were saying you used to ride when you lived in England?"
Jean nodded. "That's right. We had stables. I wasn't very good at it. My sister was, but I never got the hang of it. I always had a crippling fear of horses. One of the stable boys got trampled half to death in front of me when I was a child. I think that's what it was."
I turned to gawk at her. "You didn't tell me any of this." Not about the stables, that she used to ride, or about the stable boy.
"You didn't ask, honey."
There must have been so much about her I didn't know. Fifty years of history. We'd both come from such different worlds, and the way she'd spoken about her family and upbringing, I imagined there was lots to learn. Luckily we had a long time in which to get to know each other.
"So that's what you do, you ride horses for a living?" I wanted it to sound just as disparaging as it came out. But Samantha only responded with a massive smile.
"Actually, I'm an equine vet – a vet who specializes in horses. The riding is just something I do for fun."
"You're a vet here in the States? What, they don't have horses in Ireland?" No one laughed at my joke, and I wasn't surprised. I did notice the look Petr and Samantha exchanged, but couldn't work out what it meant.
"No, I work in Ireland. I'm here on a sabbatical."
If there had been a mirror in front of me, I would have seen what the others saw then as my face lit up. I felt it, though.
"That means you're going back to Ireland?" The glee in my voice couldn't have been more obvious. It was as if I'd just won the lottery or something.
There was that look between them again. But I was too consumed by my joy at the knowledge of Samantha's impending departure back to Ireland. Out of Petr's life forever.
"Lissa," Jean scolded quietly. We were going to have words once we were alone, I just knew it.
Samantha nodded. "I go back next week."
"Well, at least you've had fun," I said. "Holiday romances are so exciting, don't you agree?" Being nice to her came naturally now that I knew she would soon be history.
She offered me a small, pursed-lipped smile, and I completely ignored Petr's glare.
I knew I was in trouble the moment Jean and I retired to our bedroom, after saying goodnight to Petr and his soon-to-be-history girlfriend. Whenever Jean was mad at me, she kept quiet and shot me looks that sent my guilt-meter through the roof.
"Why aren't you talking?" I asked her, as I watched her silently undress and change into her nightgown. Most of them were silk, and all of them made her irresistible to look at. But something told me I wouldn't be getting any tonight.
"I have nothing to say." She climbed into the bed beside me and picked up her book off the nightstand.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" There wasn't a trace of annoyance in her tone, but she didn't fool me with thi
s act.
"Okay, maybe I was a bit of a bitch tonight. But it was justified."
She set the book down and looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Oh? How so?"
"As his best friend, it's my responsibility to grill her."
"You weren't acting much like a best friend tonight, Lissa. If you're not careful, you'll lose him. How would you have felt had he treated me the way you treated Samantha?"
I shrugged, my bottom lip pushed out. "I guess I would have called him out for it."
"Exactly."
I pondered this for a moment as she opened her book to read. She was right, but it changed nothing. She wasn't Samantha, and she was worth the trouble.
"It doesn't matter now anyway. You heard it yourself, this is a holiday romance for her, nothing more. She'll go back to her life and that will be the end of it."
I got up, pulled on my dressing gown, and started to the door to go get water from the kitchen.
"Honey, I don't think that's what she meant," Jean said.
"Sure it is. Petr hates long distance relationships." Sure of myself and thrilled, I left the room, almost skipping.
On my way back with the two bottles, one for me and one for Jean, I passed the guestroom where Petr and Samantha were. I heard muffled voices from inside. I don't know what prompted me to do it, but I pressed my ear to the door and listened.
"That was the perfect time to tell her, Pete," came Samantha's whispered voice.
"No, it wasn't. No time is perfect. Let me do it in my own time, when no one else is around. Hopefully she'll take it better."
"I don't think anything will soften the blow. She'll just see it as me stealing her best friend away. She already does. God only knows how she'll react when you tell her you're moving back with me."
NINETEEN
My hands were balled into fists as I paced the room, cursing the ground Samantha walked on, calling her every name under the sun. All of a sudden I had a problem with Irish people, and ginger people, and vets – horse vets especially!
"I'm going in there, and I'm gonna..." I took a breath. "I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind. And if my fangs accidentally come out, and it scares the crap out of her..."
"You're not going anywhere, Lissa," Jean said, voice stern. She was still in bed, but her eyes had been on me the whole time, watching me pace back and forth, working myself into more of a rage. "You're being extremely irrational right now."
"What's irrational is them keeping something like this from me. What's irrational is him moving across the globe to be with a girl he hardly knows."
"Lissa, come here."
"No, I need to talk to them. I'm just gonna talk, I promise."
"Lissa!" Okay, that voice meant business. I wasn't about to argue with it. "You charging in there like a madwoman isn't going to solve anything. They'll probably pack up and leave while we're sleeping. Do you want to lose Petr?"
My shoulders fell. The saddest sigh escaped my lips, a sigh of defeat. I slunk to the bed, where Jean was patting a space between her legs for me to sit.
I pressed my back to her chest and pulled her arms around me. This always made me feel better.
"Why is he doing this? He only just met her," I sulked.
"I knew a girl who moved away with the woman she loved, leaving everything that she knew behind..." Her voice was soft against my earlobe, her breath warm.
She was talking about me. I'd left Lox Ridge behind, left Petr, to move to a town I didn't know.
"He's doing it for love," she went on. "You of all people should get that."
"But she's not you. You were worth it. And Greenfields is hardly Ireland."
"To Petr, she is worth it. It doesn't matter how far he has to travel to be with her. That's how love works. Where would you go to be with me?"
"Anywhere." I didn't need even a second to consider it. And hearing myself, how adamant I was about my love for Jean, I finally got it. Okay, so Samantha wasn't who I would have chosen for him, but for some reason he had fallen for her. And, truth be told, I'd never seen him this loved up.
"Let him have this, honey. And if it all goes terribly wrong, and he comes running back with his tail between his legs, you'll be there to pick up the pieces."
"Why are you always the rational one?" I asked, pulling her arms tighter.
She laughed. "Not always."
We kissed, and as with so many of our kisses, the long, passionate nature of it became too steamy to ignore, and before I knew it, her hands had slipped under my T-shirt. She fondled and cradled my breasts while her tongue battled with mine. My nipples stiffened against her palms, the sensation shooting straight to my sex. The aching began promptly, and my moans followed shortly after.
She released one breast and her hand crept between my legs and into my shorts and panties. Dispensing with the removal of my clothes, that was how she wanted me. Quick, hassle-free, still fully-clothed.
Her touch was glorious. The instant her fingers swam through me, I heard my wetness, and it heightened my drive.
Every moan that spilled from my mouth she caught in hers, though she couldn't silence me entirely. If every living soul heard me that night, heard me being violated and loving every second of it, it wouldn't have stopped me whimpering like that.
Her fingers were agile, never running out of speed as she strummed and strummed, playing me like an instrument. There was a spot surrounding my bean that only she knew how to hit in order to have my body practically convulsing. She hit it repeatedly, without remorse, not giving me any time to recover after each attack.
She kissed me as I came undone, probably hoping to catch my loud climax. But my moan was too loud.
She laughed her smoky laugh as I panted, my breathing heavy.
One hand still clutched my breasts while the other hand finally bid farewell to my sex. She took her glistening fingers and licked the residue off with delight.
We cuddled until dawn grew close, then we retired to the lair.
Petr and Samantha were playing Scrabble in the lounge when I saw them the following evening. My entrance into the room caused Samantha to get that nervous look she now reserved for me, as though she expected me to bite her head off, literally.
"What did you guys get up to today?" I sat on the couch and looked at the Scrabble board. There were some interesting words on there, words I'd never heard of, and Petr probably hadn't either. They had to have been from Samantha.
"I took Sam for a tour of the town. We ate lunch at Island Delight, and we watched a street performance."
I would never stop envying what they had, but I realized then that Samantha wasn't the problem. It was what she represented that infuriated me. Namely, what she could do with him that I could no longer do. Eating lunch, seeing stupid street performances... These were things Petr and I would have had a blast doing together. It all went back to the loss of my humanity. Would I have disliked Samantha had I still been human?
"Sounds like you had fun." I forced a smile.
"We did. We can do something tonight, Lis. Just you and me, if you like," he said.
"So you can break it to me gently that you're moving to Ireland?"
They exchanged looks, mouths agape.
"How–"
"I heard you talking last night." I let out a breath. "Look, I've been an ass. It's not about you, Samantha. It's my own insecurities. If you make Pete happy, then I'm happy for both of you. And if you have to move to Ireland to follow your heart, Pete, then you have my blessing."
"Psht! Like I need your blessing," he said with a smile, waving a dismissive hand at me. But then he got up, came over and threw his arms around me. "Thanks, Lis."
It meant a lot that I was on board. Just as his opinion had when I'd decided to follow Jean. We'd talked extensively about it, and he'd supported me every step of the way. Losing him to Ireland, and to Samantha, would hurt like hell, but I truly did want him to be happy.
"I'll be back all the time," he added. "And you and Jean can come
visit whenever you want."
I knew there was a system in place for vampires traveling by plane, but it sounded complicated. I simply nodded and smiled, keeping to myself that we would likely never meet in Ireland. It was a nice moment; the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it.
After I beat Samantha at a round of Scrabble – with Petr's help – the doorbell rang. They started a new game while I went to answer it.
"And here I thought you'd been staked to death or been dragged outside into the sun." Oliver's smarmy grin and wicked eyes greeted me when I opened the door. He'd grown something of a beard since the last time I'd seen him, though it wasn't much to look at. He always had that prepubescent look about him, like a ten-year-old trying to look grown up. He said he was "reborn" at twenty, and thus would never look a day over it.
"Why would you think that?" I said, folding my arms impatiently. We had what could only have been considered a love-hate relationship, similar to the one I had with Robyn. Thus most of our exchanges were like this, me being rude to him, and him laughing it off. He didn't take anything I said seriously; he never took anything seriously.
"You haven't returned any of my messages. I'm starting to think you're avoiding me."
"I am avoiding you," I said simply. I wasn't, I merely hadn't had time to socialize, what with the gallery. But he expected me to be mean to him, so I didn't want to disappoint.
Laughter filtered out from the lounge, and he tried to peek inside to see, but he couldn't get his head past the threshold. I'd never seen the restriction in action, nor had I ever experienced it myself. To see the look of discontent on his face when he attempted to penetrate an invisible barrier was thrilling.
"Are you going to invite me in?"
I frowned, genuinely perplexed. "You've been here before. Why isn't your invitation automatic?"
"Your "life partner" obviously rescinded my invitation the last time I was here. I need another one."
Instead of inviting him in immediately, just for laughs and because I knew it would piss him off, I deliberated for as long as I could, opening my mouth as though about to say it, then closing it again.