by K. L. Kreig
Kate’s smile took up her whole face. “No. I was just going to say I think this is the longest civil conversation we’ve ever had.”
The side of Giselle’s mouth tried to turn up but she forced it flat. “I think maybe you’re right.”
“I liked it. Thanks for your help, Giselle.”
And before Giselle could even formulate a sarcastic reply, Kate was gone again. This time, she clicked the door closed so they were shut out from the commotion of the shelter.
Well shit. Now, Kate probably thought they were “friends” or something, just as Sarah did. Next time Giselle saw Kate, she would bet everything she owned she’d try to pick back up where they left off like long-lost buds. And pretty soon, word would get out and Queen number three would be in on the action, and she’d have to start shopping and going to book club and learning how to paint toenails. Jesus Christ, if this is what being nice to one of the Lord’s mates entailed, she was going to frost the hell back up.
Number one made another noise, but this time, it sounded something like a squeaky coo. Giselle hadn’t even really looked at the baby yet. It was hard to see anything through the enchilada she was stuffed in.
Her head slowly fell downward when the feeling hit. It shimmered in the air right before it happened. Just as when she first set eyes on her detective, her Fated, she knew her life was about to take yet another uncontrolled turn.
When her gaze latched onto the tiny, innocent life she held a little too tightly to her chest she immediately knew she was right. Sparkling emerald eyes stared back at her, snaring her. Completely enthralling her. In the blink of an eye, her entire world didn’t just shift on its axis…it fell off.
Her heart swelled.
Her insides flooded from the rapid ice melt this beautiful baby triggered.
Her purpose in life was finally defined.
Had someone told her a few months ago that after one hundred and forty years alone, she would have found not one, but two beings she would fall hopelessly in love with, she would have laughed in their face before throat punching them.
Yet here she was.
Totally, hopelessly, irrevocably, instantly in love with baby number one.
Number one cooed again and Giselle could swear she smiled at her. And that was it. She was done. Bought and wrapped with a simple, innocent gesture that was probably only caused by a gas bubble. But she didn’t care.
She didn’t care what chemicals floated in her tiny body. She didn’t care how she came into being. She didn’t care she wasn’t mother material. She didn’t care she wasn’t bonded yet and she hadn’t even thought about discussing her decision with her Fated first. She didn’t care about a damn thing but this little innocent baby that she was calling dibs on.
Come hell or high water, number one was hers.
18
Mike
Mike ran his palms down his denims, leaving clammy sweat behind. He wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t sure he ever would be. Nerves ate a hole in his gut, but this was the right thing to do. After his last conversation with Jamie, he wasn’t even sure she’d see him. She’d said memories of him had helped her make it through her darkest days but it was hard to look at him because he also reminded her of that place and those monsters. Slicing the skin from his flesh would have hurt less.
But like the glutton he was, he was back for more. This time, though, it was for him. Not her. That felt selfish, yet he’d spent so many damn years thinking only of Jamie and his revenge in her name he couldn’t drum up enough guilt to talk himself out of this.
He knew coming here today that Jamie had agreed to see him. He was just hoping Giselle would be waiting at the end of it, wrapping him in her arms once again if he needed it. But Dev sent her to the shelter to help Kate, instead, leaving him here on his own.
Dev wasn’t a bad guy. Not really. He’d always treated Mike with respect and fairness even when Mike had treated him like a shitbag.
And now he was helping him once again.
Mike heard footsteps. His eyes swept from the floor to the doorway expecting to see Jamie standing there. It wasn’t. It was Dev.
“She’s not coming, is she?” he asked dejectedly.
“She is. She’ll be just a few minutes. I thought maybe you’d like some coffee while you wait.”
His eyes narrowed. “Uh, sure. Don’t you, ah, have servants for that?”
Chuckling, Dev walked to the chair across from him and sat. “I do. Hooker will be in shortly with it. Black, right?”
“Right,” he replied, surprised that the Vampire Lord would remember how he took his coffee. He was their “guest” for a while several months back, but honestly, he didn’t think anyone had paid a lick of attention to him. “Thanks.”
Mike eased back against the plush cushions of his own chair, staring at the powerhouse across from him. Suddenly a thought took hold and before he could push it through the right filter, he was blurting, “Is there anyone I need ask permission from to bond with Giselle?”
Yeah. He was a fucking idiot.
If the vamp was surprised, he didn’t show it. Dev leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The move stretched his button-down tight across his biceps and chest, leaving no doubt what the vampire packed underneath his innocuous-looking attire. Pure, lethal power. “Are you seeking my permission, human?”
Fuck. He should have just kept his mouth shut, shut, shut, but he didn’t want to pussy out now. He wished he’d waited and asked Ren what the right protocol was instead.
“Is it your permission I should be asking for?”
At that moment, Hooker breezed into the library, handing him a piping mug of coffee. He took a tentative sip and just about moaned. Jesus, these vamps must have magic coffee beans or something.
With a grace that defied such raw power, Dev eased back and threw one leg over the other. “And what if I said no.”
His answer was immediate. “Then I guess I’d tell you I didn’t fucking care. I’m going to bond with her anyway.”
The Vampire Lord’s smile was slow and practically predatory. “Well, that’s not really how it works in our world anyway. As long as Giselle wants you, that’s all that’s relevant.”
Mike nodded once; glad this train wreck discussion was over.
“Are you okay with all this? Becoming a bloodsucker?” The dig was said in humor, but he heard Dev’s underlying concern. It was the same tone Ren had.
“Surprisingly enough, I am. Each day I go without that bond, an ache grows. It’s…hard to explain.” Let alone understand.
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Dev snorted in agreement.
Taking another sip of his coffee, Mike contemplated how much his world was about to change. He wouldn’t need much sleep, not that he got much anyway. He wouldn’t be as powerful as a full-blooded vampire, but he’d be pretty damn close. But what did all this mean for him? What would he do all day? Year after year? Just be the Vampire Lord’s gopher? He didn’t want that. He needed a purpose. A real one.
“I’d like a permanent position on your staff.”
“You already have one,” Dev replied coolly.
“I’m not talking about your errand boy. I’m talking about a real contribution.”
“Doing?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought it all the way through, but even you have to admit my skills are valuable. I have contacts all over the country. Maybe I could track down the biological families of the kids you rescued or something along those lines?”
Hell, he’d done it before with Sarah’s family, and the feeling of accomplishment was a high he’d only ridden when he closed a cold case. Or when he was balls deep inside of Giselle. But he couldn’t make a full-time job out of that.
Could he?
Dev looked impressed as he nodded slowly. “I think that’s something we could discuss.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“I’m not going to call you my lord,” Mike quipped, taking another sip
of the gold in his cup.
Dev rose with ease. “Never expected anything less from you, human.”
Mike’s quick rebuttal about not being human for long held fast to his tongue when he looked over and saw Jamie standing in the doorway watching them. He practically tripped over himself standing, spilling his hot drink in the process.
“Hi,” he said quietly. He wiped his wet hand off on his jeans before setting the mug down.
“Hi,” she replied just as softly.
“Well, that’s my cue. We’ll talk about this topic later.” Dev’s voice echoed somewhere to his left.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, not even aware of Dev’s exit. “Do you, ah, do you want to sit down?” He gestured to the chair Dev just vacated. Jamie shyly made her way to it. The breadth of the furniture swallowed her delicate frame and all he could do was stare at the woman he once thought he would marry.
Jesus, she was breathtaking. She looked so different than the last time he laid eyes on her. Her brown hair was shinier, a little shorter and had hints of red in it now. She’d gone blonde back in college, but he liked her natural brown so much better. Her pale skin had life to it again. Her stick figure had filled out substantially. But the thing that stunned him the most was the haunted look that weighed down her soul was nearly gone.
She looked almost…normal.
She looked beautiful.
“Wow. You look great,” he said on a pained breath.
Her smile was genuine. “Thanks. I’m feeling…much better.”
“I’m glad. Truly.”
Several awkward heartbeats went by before either of them said anything. Then they both spoke at once.
“Have you—”
“How are—”
Her light, lyrical laugh brought back hordes of memories. Swarms of them buzzed around his head until his ears rang.
Their first kiss.
The morning of her eighteenth birthday when he gave her a pair of diamond chip studs he’d saved months for.
How he felt like he’d puke when he told her he loved her for the first time.
The night he took her virginity.
Minutes that dragged on like centuries after she went missing.
The self-flagellation he’d done every fucking day since then.
Drunken nights and countless women he’d drowned in trying to numb himself.
Despair. Hatred. Helplessness.
For the first time, he thought maybe he understood how she felt last time they’d met. Good and bad all wrapped up into one warped, bastardized package. When he looked at her now, that’s what he saw. Blissful and cruel memories twined together until they became an indistinguishable blob of heartbreak.
“You go first,” she said with another smile.
He swallowed hard, wondering where he should start. Wondering what this was really going to accomplish. “I heard your little sister is getting married,” he told her. He had no idea if she’d kept up on any outside news, but he wanted her to know. She was marrying a big-time lawyer who was quite the shits in Minneapolis. So big, in fact, their engagement earned a thirty-second spot on the nightly news all the way in Milwaukee.
“Yeah, I saw that, too. She looks happy.”
“You think maybe you’ll go?”
Looking away, she replied quietly, “No.”
He felt incredibly sad that Jamie wouldn’t be able to do all the things sisters did together when one of them got married. Showers, wedding dress shopping, bachelorette parties. Even though six years separated them, he knew how close Jamie and Jackie were. He’d envied their relationship, actually, not having any siblings of his own.
“You haven’t contacted your parents yet, then?”
Her face fell. His stomach went with it. He never wanted another ounce of sadness for her. “No. I’m not sure…” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure that will ever be a good idea. I’m not the daughter they lost. I’ll never be her again.”
His mouth turned down. She was right. Jamie was the all-American girl with her entire future ahead of her. She was studying premed and had aspirations to become a world-class cardiothoracic surgeon. She was brilliant, likable, and driven. He wondered how much of her still lingered.
“Maybe you’ll change your mind someday?”
Thoughtful for a few moments, she finally said, “I don’t think so.”
Not wanting silence to fill the space between them, he asked dumbly, “You been sleeping okay?”
She guffawed. “That still eludes me most nights.”
“Don’t they have something they can give you that will help?” He hated the thought she was still scared to close her eyes.
One shoulder shrugged. “They do, but I just can’t stomach the thought of taking anything foreign inside my body again if I can absolutely avoid it.”
He still didn’t know any details about what happened in her years of captivity. He thought he wanted to at one point, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. “Oh fuck, Jamie. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”
“No, it wasn’t. And please don’t be sorry, Mike.”
He should leave. What the hell did he think he was accomplishing by dredging this shit up? “I should go,” he said in resignation.
“No, don’t.” Her reply was quick and assured.
“Jamie…” He let her name linger and was drawn into eyes that used to remind him of melted caramel. He hadn’t eaten a fucking caramel since the day his old life died and his new one started. “You sure?”
“Very.” The turn of her lips reached her eyes. If it hadn’t, he’d be gone.
“Okay then. Ah, tell me what you’ve been doing with your time here.” It had been six months since Jamie was rescued, and as far as he knew she hadn’t even left the palatial estate.
Jamie regarded him for a few moments before she launched into a description of her daily routine. One-on-one counseling, group counseling, meditation, visualization. Apparently someone on Dev’s staff had been teaching self-defense classes, so she recently started taking those. She’d taken to helping in the kitchen and was trying to learn the art of pastry making. She said she’d been reading a bit, which was something he remembered she used to have a passion for. And she’d become pretty good friends with one of the other long-term residents at the shelter named Chelsea.
She was animated, talking with her hands the way he remembered. The longer she spoke, the more hints of the old Jamie shone through. God. He never expected this in a hundred years. He wasn’t sure how he thought she’d be, but a mile down the road to recovery wasn’t it.
“So, now that I’ve answered your twenty questions, you get to answer one of mine,” she said pointedly. “What are you really doing here?”
He couldn’t help but smile. One of the things he’d loved most about her was her directness. She was nothing like Giselle, not even on the same playing field. Jamie’s tenacity, though, like Giselle’s, had been a draw for him.
But his smile faded pretty fucking fast when the real reason he was here crossed his mind. Because I’m going to bond with a vampire, turning into the very thing that destroyed you.
Fuck.
Fuuuuck.
This was a horribly, epically bad idea.
The guilt he already carried about Jamie sat on him like a metric ton and telling her the real reason may very well set her back. He couldn’t have that on his conscience. He shouldn’t have come.
Ready to tell her he’d made a mistake, he froze when she reached across the space that separated them and touched her fingertips to his. Just barely. Right on the ends. They were baby smooth and cool.
He looked down, staring at how small and fine her fingers were compared to his. He wondered how many tears she’d cried into them over the eleven years she was gone. How many pleas were absorbed, never to be answered. His eyes pricked. Before he knew it his thumb unconsciously started rubbing the flesh just above her nails.
“I just want you to be okay,” he whispered brokenly, still staring
at their hands. A heaviness sat in the middle of his chest. He wondered if it would ever go away. “I need to know you’ll be okay, Jamie. You need to be okay.” The last plea barely had sound.
He heard her inhale deeply and blow it out slowly. Then she was on the floor in front of him, looking up at him. Looking into him. She had a slight curve to her lips, but he wouldn’t call it a smile exactly. It was more like acceptance. A reluctant acknowledgment for the shit circumstances life dealt them both.
“I need you to do the same thing, Mike. I need to know that you’ll be okay and not carry guilt that’s not yours to bear.”
“But—”
“No, Mike,” she interrupted. “There is no but. There is no what-if. There is no I wish. Thinking that way is sheer mental and emotional torture and doesn’t do a damn thing to change the circumstances. You don’t think I’ve said the same thing to myself day after day for the last eleven years? What if I’d let you take me out that night like you’d wanted to? What if I’d had one less drink? What if I’d let you come pick me up? What if I’d asked someone to walk me to the bus stop? What if? Why me? But it’s all useless, pointless, endless torture. It happened, and no amount of wishing or what-ifs will ever change that.”
“Jamie—” He was fucking breaking inside and the ragged pieces fell from his eyes in droves. Every one of them burned like hell spilling down his cheeks.
Scooting closer, Jamie brought her tiny hands up and placed them on his face, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her. He swore she reached inside and cured the gut rot that had plagued him for the last decade.
“I know you’ll understand when I tell you that in order for me to survive this, I need to erase everything about who I used to be. I’m not Jamie Hallow anymore. That girl is dead and gone. But this one right here? She’s living. She wants to live. But there’s only one way she can, Mike.” Her voice was quiet and gentle, holding threads of steely resolve.
She was letting him go.
The irony was they both pined for each other every day they were apart. Now they both needed to cut the same string. It was harder than he thought it would be. Not because he wanted her back. Because he didn’t want her to forget him, yet that’s exactly what she needed to do.