“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I asked, squeezing the edges of my phone.
“Nothing’s wrong. I called to have a chat.”
“Gran! It’s—” I moved my phone down to check out the time then lifted it back to my ear, “five seventeen in the morning.”
The four-hour time difference between Florida and Alaska could be a real nuisance.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I forgot, but I wanted to speak to you while your mom’s in the shower.”
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
I looked over at Fane, but he’d nestled back into his pillow and closed his eyes. I’d like to nestle in beside him, but my grandmother was chattering in my ear.
“Well, Dana tells me you might not be coming down for Christmas.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Believe me, Gran. I want to spend Christmas together, but it all depends on whether or not we capture a rogue agent.”
“Yes, yes. Your mother told me all about it,” Gran said impatiently. “I don’t see what difference it makes when you catch him. If you don’t this month, he’ll still be around for you to catch when you get back.”
“I don’t want to return,” I said. “Once I leave Alaska, I’m not coming back. And I’m not leaving until we get him.”
“Oh, honey, don’t be so melodramatic. It sounds like a holiday would do you good.”
I ground my teeth together. Five . . . nineteen, before blood, before tea, really wasn’t the best time to be nagging me.
“As long as he’s roaming free, none of us are safe—including you and Mom.”
“Not to worry. Dana and I got our concealed weapon licenses. And before you ask, yes, we know how to use them. We’ve been taking shooting lessons. We’re members at the local range. The guys all call us Thelma and Louise.” Grandma tittered with amusement. “Isn’t that cute?”
I groaned in reply.
“And we’re taking private aikido lessons. Fitness is very important. It slows the aging process for us humans. I still plan to be around a very long time.”
A smile flickered over my lips. Had to love my gran.
“We’ve had a lot of time on our hands to train,” Gran continued. “So really this hooligan you’re after has more to fear from us.”
Yes, I’m sure Jared would be shaking like a birch leaf if only he knew a seventy-something-year-old grandma wanted to karate chop him. The smile on my lips faded fast when Gran took on an accusatory tone.
“You promised you’d spend Christmas with us in Florida.”
I had to think for a moment if I’d really promised or if Gran was remembering things the way she wanted. The conversation was foggy—especially at five twenty a.m.—but it sorta rang a bell. If I’d used the word “promise” it was only to help get Mom and Gran on their way to the airport after discovering that Giselle Morell had tracked me down to Anchorage and posed as their French instructor.
“You and Dante,” Gran said.
“Gran, we’re no longer together.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s no longer invited,” Gran said. “Your mother explained everything to me.”
“Did she explain that I’m with someone else?”
“She mentioned you’re dating an older vampire, one she previously met.” This last part was followed by silence.
Where were the compliments, Ma? At the very least she could have acknowledged the fact that Fane made me happy.
When Gran stayed quiet, I said, “Yeah, he came over for dinner once.”
Fane scooted over, suddenly awake now that I was discussing him. He ran his fingers up and down my leg, working his way to my thigh. Oh, he was bad.
I swallowed.
“You’ll like him, he’s very—” as Fane’s thumb found its way between my legs, I sucked in a breath, “charming,” I finished.
“So long as he makes you happy,” Gran said.
“Yes,” I said, nodding my head vigorously. “He makes me very happy.”
Fane’s body shook with silent mirth. He ran his tongue across my bare shoulder, leaving shivers of pleasure in his wake.
“Well, tell your gentleman to make me happy by having you here with us for the holidays,” Gran intoned inside my ear. “I’ll be extremely disappointed if he doesn’t.”
“Trust me, Gran. He’d rather I spend the holidays with family than here. I’m the holdup. I’m the one who wants to finish the job before moving on.”
“Then he should twist your arm.”
“Gran . . .”
“I have to go,” Gran said suddenly. “Your mother is coming. See you for Christmas.”
Gran hung up before I could protest or say bye.
“Arg!” I groaned in frustration, dropping my phone with a loud smack onto the nightstand.
Only Gran could coax words out of my mouth before seven a.m.
“Shh. Don’t talk,” Fane said. He disappeared beneath the covers. His hot breath traveled down my naked body. Soon after, his wicked tongue found its way between my legs, taking the place of his thumb.
Several inarticulate expletives left my mouth followed by a moan, all accumulating to the name I loved most.
“Fane!”
I wasn’t talking so much as screaming.
6
Young And Free
Friday rolled around and still there was no word on Jared or Valerie. It was like the night before Christmas and not a creature was stirring.
There were no more dead bodies either, which was a good thing.
Fane and Joss were silent inside the parlor. The only sounds were the occasional clicks and taps from Fane’s computer or a light shuffle of paper from Joss. Noel hadn’t bothered showing up. Couldn’t blame her there. At least this way I didn’t have to listen to holiday tunes. I’d been joining Dante and his group every day, but spent my time turning circles inside the parlor in the morning and late afternoon.
Today we’d done kickboxing. I was getting in plenty of physical activity—both during the day and night—and yet I felt more restless than ever. The moment the agency got the go-ahead on Jab, I wanted to join the mission and do something useful.
I drummed my fingers over my desk.
Fane’s phone chimed. He snatched it off his desk and bent his head over the screen, reading, before tapping out a quick reply and setting the phone, screen down, on his desk.
I lifted my head. “Any news?”
Fane turned his head. “Nope,” he said. “Might as well get a jump on the weekend.”
I snorted. Weekends on base were even worse than weekdays at the agency. Don’t get me wrong, they flew by with Fane, but that was part of the problem. The days were speed skating past us, yet we were no closer to capturing Jared.
Fane cleared his throat. “Joss? Ready to call it a day?”
I hoped Fane hadn’t invited him over for dinner, not after we’d spent the whole week at the agency together.
Joss checked his wristwatch, muttering, “I suppose it’s time,” as he straightened papers, slipped them inside folders, and stacked them on the corner of his desk.
I wondered what he, Reinhardt, and Gunter did for kicks on the weekend. I wondered the same about Ashley, Jennifer, and Kate. I already knew Dante got out with Tommy. He’d invited me to go snowshoeing and cross-country skiing with them a couple times, but I always declined.
Joss stood and grabbed his jacket off a peg on the wall.
“Goodbye, for the time being,” he said.
I lifted my hand and waved him off.
“See you,” Fane said.
Once Joss left, Fane picked up his phone and began typing. He finished and set it down.
My eyes roved the walls. The room we’d taken over wasn’t much cheerier than Melcher’s office. No windows and no décor. It was about as inviting as a cube farm without dividers.
When Fane made no move to stand, I said, “Shouldn’t we be going?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said slowly. “Let me just check a couple more things.”
A couple more things ended up taking Fane fifteen minutes. He seemed awfully focused all of a sudden, which was perplexing when absolutely nothing had happened all week.
Fane made several clicks at his computer before the screen went dark. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and stretched.
I stood up and folded my arms. “Ready?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?”
Fane chuckled. “I’m sure. Let’s get out of here—for real.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said, loosening my arms to thread one around his.
As we passed the secretary’s desk, Fane called out, “Good night, Mandy.”
“Good night, Mr. Donado,” she returned.
“Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too.”
“I will.”
The door of Melcher’s office was open. As we passed, I looked in and saw Melcher in a black suit, sitting at his desk, arms resting on the surface, fingers laced together. His eyes latched on to mine instantly, stealing my breath. I didn’t utter a word. No hi, goodbye, or have a nice weekend. The hairs prickled on the back of my neck the way they sometimes do when a predator is lurking nearby.
Fane’s back was turned to Melcher’s office as he made quick pleasantries with Mandy. He never saw the way Melcher pierced me with his stare. My grip on Fane’s arm tightened.
As soon as Melcher was out of view, I blinked and breathed again, relaxing my hold on Fane. Boy, was I glad to leave this place for a couple days.
Fane turned his head to me. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, Melcher sighting.” I shuddered. “You know how those give me the heebie-jeebies.”
Fane frowned. “As long as he’s with the agency, we can never let our guard down. We’ll deal with Jared first, but Melcher’s still a problem.”
“As long as he breathes, he’s a problem,” I muttered under my breath, stealing a glance behind my shoulder. I half expected to find Melcher standing at the end of the hall, watching us leave. Creeper with a capital C.
“Let the weekend begin,” I announced as Fane pulled into our driveway.
He chuckled as he stepped out of the vehicle and pocketed the keys.
We were on our way to the door when Reinhardt emerged from the house next door. He grinned and waved.
“Hey, Aurora! Gunter and I have been baking cookies for all the agents on the block. You can have the first batch!”
I turned my back to Reinhardt, nose wrinkling.
“Did he say cookies?”
“You got something against cookies?” Fane asked. He tapped his chin. “Oh, right. I remember that time you ran away from home to avoid decorating them.” Fane smirked.
I planted a hand on my hip. “First of all, I didn’t run away, I just took my time going home after school. Secondly, I prefer hard and crunchy to soft and chewy.”
Fane leaned within inches of my lips and said, “You never have to worry about things being soft with me.”
I snickered. Good thing Reinhardt couldn’t hear us or else the poor boy would probably blush crimson.
“Aurora?” Reinhardt called.
Fane chuckled. “Better go get us some of their cookies unless you want to be known as the grinchy girl on the street.”
I huffed. “Fine, but I’m not eating any. Hope you have a sweet tooth.”
“Oh, I do,” Fane said eagerly, his tongue tracing his upper lip as he stared at my mouth.
A blush crept over my face. Even living together and after everything we’d done, he still managed to give my stomach the flutters.
“I’ll be waiting,” Fane drawled.
Rather than take the long way around using the driveway and sidewalk, I walked through the snow-covered yard to the house next door where Reinhardt stood on the porch in a short-sleeved T-shirt and pair of frayed jeans.
His grin broadened as I kicked snow off my boots and clomped up the three steps leading up.
“Come on in. We made gingerbread this afternoon.”
I could have guessed the cookie of the day the moment I stepped through their front door. My nostrils were immediately assaulted by the scent of molasses. I couldn’t decide whether to sneeze or gag. First, holiday decorations and music, now cookies. Why couldn’t we have gotten Jared around the Thanksgiving holiday? That would have given me something to be especially grateful for.
I followed Reinhardt down the hall to the kitchen. The layout of their housing was identical to ours.
Gunter stood in the kitchen wearing, I kid you not, a red-and-white checkered apron. He had on matching hot mitts and was crouched beside an open oven when I walked in. Gunter looked up and smiled brightly.
“Hi, Aurora.”
“Hey.”
Gunter pulled a tray of gingerbread men from the oven and set it on top of a hot pad on the kitchen counter. He pulled off his mitts and set them aside. A fresh wave of allspice and molasses wafted over me.
Reinhardt grabbed a paper plate and sidled up beside Gunter. As he reached his hand toward the tray, Gunter slapped Reinhardt’s wrist.
“These still need to cool,” he said.
Reinhardt shook his hand. “I told Aurora she could have the freshest cookies.”
Gunter nodded at a tray stacked with cookies. “Those just came out half an hour ago.”
“Yeah, but I promised fresh out of the oven, which means these ones.” Reinhardt pointed at the gingerbread men stuck to the cookie tray.
“They’re going to break apart if I remove them too soon,” Gunter said.
“Hey!” I said. “I don’t care which cookies came out first. The ones on the tray are fine.”
I’d take the whole damn tray to get them to stop bickering and be on my way.
Reinhardt and Gunter grinned sheepishly.
“Are you sure?” Reinhardt asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t want to burn my tongue on the ones that just came out.”
“See,” Gunter said, dusting an open area of the kitchen counter with flour then plopping a ball of dough onto it.
Reinhardt walked over to the platter and began transferring cookies over to a paper plate one by one. Obviously he didn’t have anything better to do, unlike me. I began tapping my foot on the linoleum floor and looked into the empty living room.
It didn’t surprise me to find Joss absent from the cookie-making operation. I could picture him shut inside his room upstairs with a book. Maybe I should get him a silver bat for Christmas. He could hang it on his doorknob to keep his roommates out. Not that I imagined guys barging into each other’s rooms.
“That’s plenty,” I told Reinhardt after he stacked two layers of cookies on the paper plate.
“It’s okay, we’re making lots more,” Gunter said, rolling out dough over the countertop.
“Unless blood is a main ingredient, I’m fine with those,” I said.
“Blood,” Gunter repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Why would you want to mix blood with sugar?”
I shot him a pointed stare. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”
“Best to keep the two separated.” Gunter nodded, missing my point entirely. He finished rolling out the dough, set the rolling pin down, and picked up a gingerbread man cookie cutter. “Dante said vampires like the taste of nutmeg and molasses.”
“And chocolate,” Reinhardt said, lifting his head.
I snorted. “I’m sure he did.” According to Dante, the undead were most likely partial to fruit pie and cheese pizza, as well. Hold the garlic.
“We’re making chocolate chip cookies tomorrow,” Gunter said. “We can bring them over when
they’re ready.”
I lifted my hand. “That’s okay. I’ll check in later.” Actually, I’d send Fane over. Next time it was his turn to collect cookies.
Gunter set down the cookie cutter then pulled away the dough surrounding his cutouts. He scooped up a spatula and began laying the gingerbread men carefully onto a baking tray. A timer beeped on the oven.
Reinhardt stood on his tiptoes opening and closing cupboards.
“Dude, what are you looking for?” Gunter asked, putting on his oven mitts.
“Saran Wrap.”
“Bottom drawer on the right.”
I snickered. “You two make such a cute couple.”
Reinhardt scowled. “Not a chance.”
Gunter turned and placed his mitted hands on his aproned hips. “You watch your tongue, Reinhardt, unless you want to start making your own dinners.”
I laughed as Gunter shook his head and muttered, “No appreciation.”
“Okay, guys, as entertaining as this is, I’d really like my cookies now.”
Reinhardt bent down and opened a drawer near the floor, pulling out the elusive roll of Saran Wrap.
“I’ll have it ready in a jiff,” he said.
“Look at that, teamwork,” I muttered sarcastically.
“It’s not all punching and kicking on base. Gotta make time for sugar and spice, too,” Gunter said, removing the hot tray of cookies from the oven and replacing it with the gingerbread men he’d just cut out.
His idea of spice and mine were entirely different. I pictured Fane waiting for me next door.
Reinhardt proceeded to wrap layer after layer of plastic around the plate.
Whoa, ease up there, teen vamp. I only had to transport it about twenty feet. The landfill had enough garbage to handle.
Gunter slipped off his mitts and reset the timer. That done, he gently pried a cookie from the tray that had come out when I first walked in. “These are probably okay for eating if you want a warm one for the road,” he said.
“I’m good,” I said, holding out my hands to take the plate and be on my way.
Reinhardt beamed as he handed me the plate. “Enjoy.”
“Sure, thanks. Have a good weekend.”
Plate in hand, I swept down the hallway and out the front door. I crossed the way I’d come, stepping in the tracks I’d made through the snow. Fane had turned on the front porchlight for me. I entered its glow and walked into the warmth of our house. In addition to my morning blood-and-tea habit, Fane had acclimated himself to keeping the thermostat at sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Seventy-one was more in my comfort zone, but Fane would have been fine at fifty-eight or even lower. It was all about compromise. At least a little. I’d given up three degrees.
True North (Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter, Vol. 6) Page 7