The Art of Loving a Vampire

by Jaye Wells

  “Wow, that’s amazing. I guess you’ve been through a lot together,” Syd said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were related.”

  “He’s like a brother to Callum and me. I’m sure you’ve seen my mother treat him like a son, too.”

  “You know, it’s so odd. I never thought vampires would have close-knit families,” she said.

  “Actually, not all of us have families. I guess it’s a lot like mortal families,” he said. He hoped his segue was more subtle that it sounded to his own ears.

  “Hmmm, I suppose,” Syd said.

  “What’s your family like? You said you don’t speak to them.” So much for the subtle approach.

  She took a long gulp of wine. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her crossed arms clearly said “keep out.” He hated to upset her, but he needed to understand what made her tick, even if he had to hit a few nerves to get her to open up. So he waited silently for her response. He’d found over the years most people couldn’t stand silence, so they’d start talking just to fill the void in the conversation.

  “No, we don’t speak anymore,” she said. Clearly, she wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

  “How long has it been since you spoke to them?”

  She looked up then. Gone was the at-ease Sydney who suggested a truce. Replaced was a woman with shuttered eyes and a defensive posture.

  “I really don’t want to talk about them,” she said. “I’m tired. I think I am going to go to bed now. Thanks for the wine.”

  As she stood to leave, Logan scrambled for something to say to make her stay. He stood quickly and gently grasped her arm to halt her retreat.

  “Syd, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about your family, you don’t have to. But please don’t leave,” he pleaded.

  She turned around slowly. When she met his gaze, his heart nearly broke at the sadness he saw there. What had happened with her family? It didn’t matter anymore what caused her skittishness about a relationship, although her reaction certainly indicated he had found the source. He just wanted to hold her and prove to her she could trust him.

  He tentatively wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She slowly turned into him, as if longing for the contact but not trusting it. He wrapped the other arm around her, reveling in her softness and the subtle vanilla scent he now associated with Sydney. She held stiff for a moment, but relaxed gradually as he stroked her back.

  “I’m sorry I upset you,” he whispered into her silken hair. He inhaled a breath of her vanilla-scented shampoo.

  “Shh,” she said. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Just . . . hold me for a minute.”

  He could tell the request cost her. He suspected Syd wasn’t used to appearing this vulnerable in front of anyone. He felt lucky she would choose him to lean on, even if for only a brief moment.

  She stirred in his arms. He reluctantly leaned back and tipped up her chin with a finger. He noticed she hadn’t let herself go enough to cry, but her eyes glinted with unshed tears.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She nodded. “Thanks,” she said quietly. A slight blush rose to her cheeks, and he suspected their moment of connection was about to be broken.

  “Guess I’m hormonal or something,” she said.

  Yep, the moment was definitely over, he thought. Leave it to Syd to make a joke when things were getting deep. He knew it was a joke because his heightened senses told him she was just about to ovulate. He shook his head. If Syd was upset his family could read her mind, imagine what she’d say if she found out they all could sense her cycle as well.

  “That’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed,” he said. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

  She shifted away from him a bit. He missed the physical connection immediately. “I know. I’m just not ready yet.”

  He nodded. “If I promise not to be nosy anymore, will you stay out here with me?”

  She stifled a yawn. “Honestly, I am really wiped out. I think the wine exaggerated the effects of the week.”

  He stifled his frustration, knowing he was being selfish. She obviously needed to rest.

  “That’s fine. I have some work I can do in the lab anyway,” he said truthfully.

  She glanced around the patio as if stalling for time. “Do you want me to help you clean this up?”

  He glanced at the two glasses and bottle and then sent her a wry smile. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

  Her laugh sounded forced. “Yeah, I guess a big scary vampire like you can handle a few dishes, huh?”

  All humor fled as he turned and looked at her.

  “I hope you aren’t scared of me,” he said, his voice soft with an undertone of intensity.

  Her smile faded as she put a hand on his arm. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Good. I’d rather die than hurt you,” he said. He gazed directly into her eyes, trying to convey his sincerity through his pupils. He slowly lifted a hand and brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, using the motion as an excuse to caress her ivory skin.

  “I know that, Logan,” she whispered. “I trust you with my life. I just can’t trust you with my heart.”

  His hand dropped impotently to his side as she turned and walked away. He felt stunned by her admission. He originally thought she wasn’t interested; instead, she was afraid he’d break her heart.

  Well, doesn’t that beat all? We’re both scared of the same thing.

  Syd woke up the next morning feeling as if she had a hangover and PMS combined—in other words, tired and bitchy. But she knew the intermittent bouts of tossing and turning combined with erotic dreams about Logan were to blame for her current funk.

  Of course, her embarrassing display of emotion in front of him didn’t help the situation. However, instead of aiming her anger inward, as she probably should do, she decided to blame Logan. After all, if he hadn’t suggested the wine to start with, none of that would have happened.

  She threw back the covers and grunted at the cheerful sunshine spilling through the open curtains. She mentally added forgetting to close them last night to her list of things that were Logan’s fault.

  She stalked to the bathroom and frowned at her reflection. The bags under eyes were large enough to store loose change. Her hair looked like a nest of rats had taken over. And worst of all, the Mt. Kilimanjaro of pimples had sprouted on her chin. She didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or just curl up in the fetal position on the floor. Her more rational brain stepped in and suggested a compromise. So, she sat on the toilet seat cover and cried.

  She cried for her job, which seemed almost impossible to salvage at this point. She cried for herself because it felt good. She cried for Logan and for things she could never share with him. She even cried for Jorge, who would probably lose his job because of her.

  After crying herself dry, she blew her nose and stood in front of the mirror again. The crying jag had done nothing to improve her appearance. She stuck her tongue out at herself, hating the self-pity she couldn’t shake.

  Steeling her resolve, she decided a shower and some time away from this house was just what the doctor ordered. She didn’t look forward to the confrontation with Logan over her decision, but so be it. It was time to take back control of her life.

  Armed with a plan, she felt more confident as she dressed. Soon she was ready to face the enemy. Marching out her door and down the stairs in search of Logan, she felt calm and composed. Surely if she presented her case in a rational way, he would understand her concerns. And if he didn’t, she’d just call Jorge and get him to sneak her out.

  She wandered through the downstairs rooms but found no sign of Logan. She knew he was awake because his bedroom door was open when she passed on her way to the stairs. Deciding he must be in the lab, she headed for the door down the hall from the kitchen.

  Unsure of how to proceed since she had never been in his lab, she knocked. When nothing hap
pened, she turned the knob. To her surprise, the door swung open to reveal a set of well-lit carpeted stairs. For some reason, she had pictured the corridor leading to lab as more of a dark, cobweb-filled passageway lit by torches. She chuckled at her silliness as she started down the steps.

  At the bottom, she found a small room with a door. At first glance, it seemed like a normal door, but on closer inspection, she could see it was only painted to look like wood. She placed her hand on it and felt the cold bite of steel beneath her palm. Set in the wall next to the door was a small panel. When she opened it, she whistled low at the keypad with a thumbprint scanner. She knew Logan took his experiments seriously, but seeing this gave her a whole new respect for the importance of his work. She put her ear to the door to listen for any movement on the other side, but of course heard nothing. She bit her lip. Knocking on a reinforced steel door seemed silly. But without another option, she lifted her hand and rapped a couple of times on the panel.

  Suddenly, a whoosh of air hit her as the door swung open to reveal Logan wearing an amused grin.

  “You make a horrible spy,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding defensive to her own ears.

  He pointed behind her, and she turned to see a video camera in the upper corner near the stairs.

  “I have been watching you since you were in the foyer,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Hey, you were spying on me,” she accused.

  “It’s my house. I have a right to observe what goes on here. Especially when it involves a woman with a history of snooping,” he said with another grin and opened the door to the lab wider. “Welcome to my lab.”

  She walked past him into the room and her mouth fell open. The lab was larger than her entire apartment. Shelves of microscopes, glass flasks and other paraphernalia she couldn’t name lined two walls. Several computers sat under the shelves on wide counters. Papers and other equipment covered a large island in the center of the room. On the far wall sat a massive desk with a black ergonomic chair.

  “Well, what do you think?” he asked from behind her.

  “Is that a centrifuge?” she asked, pointing to the corner of the room where a large machine stood.

  “Yep, this room is a replica of our labs at Murdoch Biotech, only smaller.”

  “Smaller?” she asked.

  “Yes, our labs at the company have five to ten technicians working in them. It’s usually just Alaric and me here, so we only have the basics,” he explained.

  “Holy smokes, I had no idea you had this kind of set up down here.”

  “It’s not something we advertise. A lot of espionage happens in my business. We wouldn’t want anyone breaking in to steal our secrets.”

  “I guess that explains the security,” she said. She wandered farther into the room cautiously. She didn’t want to break anything important. She couldn’t believe this cold room was where he spent his days.

  “So, did you need something, or is this just a friendly visit?” he asked, taking a seat on one of the stools next to the island. She walked up and gingerly leaned against the surface.

  “Syd, relax. There’s nothing in this area you can hurt,” he said.

  She allowed herself to relax enough to sit on the stool next to him. Now that she was here, her bravado from earlier had fled. Logan wore a white lab coat and seemed perfectly at ease in the sterile environment. She, on the other hand, preferred the colorful and noisy chaos at the museum to the antiseptic feel of this room. She felt her hands grow sweaty and knew she’d get claustrophobic if she had to be there for too long. She decided she’d best say her piece and leave.

  “I need to go to the museum today and wondered if Callum had brought my car back yet,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Logan’s eyes flashed for a moment. Then he calmly said, “I thought we already discussed this.”

  “We discussed it yesterday. Today I want to go and get some work done,” she responded.

  “I see,” he said and began to rub his chin contemplatively. “Well, to answer your question, yes, Callum brought your car over late last night.”

  When she started to smile and speak, he held up one hand to stall her.

  “However, I must reiterate the dangers of you leaving. Callum reported last night that the Brethren Council has heard that Raven is planning something big. We don’t know what it is, but we should not take any chances right now.”

  “Logan, I know you want to protect me, but I can’t neglect my life. I have a job, for now at least, and I need to go in for a couple of hours. Besides, I am going stir crazy here. I need to get away for a little bit,” she said.

  “Syd, I would be happy to escort you anywhere you want to go,” he said reasonably.

  She hesitated and avoided his knowing gaze.

  “Oh, I see. You need space from me. Is that it?” he asked, sounding hurt.

  “Logan, it’s not that. I just need to have some time in familiar surroundings to sort through everything,” she said.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  She decided she needed a compromise. After all, he wasn’t dictating she stay, and he had valid concerns about her safety.

  “Okay, how about this? I will promise to be gone no longer than three hours. I’ll even check in with you every hour,” she suggested.

  “Make it two hours and check in every thirty minutes,” he countered.

  “Logan, that’s ridiculous. It will take me an hour just to get to the museum and back. Three hours and you can call me every thirty minutes,” she said.

  He thought about it for a minute. Syd hated having to haggle for a few hours of free time, but she didn’t want to fight with him anymore.

  “Deal,” he began. She smiled and jumped up. But he held up a hand. “Not so fast. First, I insist you take my car. No offense, but that car of yours couldn’t outrun a dog. You’ll be faster in the Porsche if something happens. Second, you go straight to the museum and back here. No side trips. Third, I want you to stay near Jorge while you’re there. Make sure he knows where you are at all times.”

  “Okay, I think you’re a little desperate if you want Jorge to play protector,” Syd said.

  “Syd, I’m serious. Raven may sleep during the day, but her minions might be watching this house as we speak. You have to be on guard. If you can’t promise me you’ll be careful, then I won’t let you go.”

  “Oh no, don’t pull that macho alpha-male crap on me, Logan Murdoch. You aren’t the boss of me. I am a big girl and can take care of myself,” she said, her voice rising.

  Logan sighed. “We don’t need another argument. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll be back in no time. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “I still don’t like it, but you’re right. I have no right to play lord and master here. I just worry about you. If anything happened, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

  Syd stood and rubbed her hands together. “I’ll be fine. Now, where are the keys to the Porsche?”

  Ten minutes later Logan stood on the front porch watching the dust rise behind his car as Syd sped away. He ran his hands though his hair. His gut told him this was a mistake, but he found he was no match for Sydney once she set her mind to something. Actually, she reminded him of the other stubborn female in his life. No wonder his mother and Sydney got along so well.

  He turned to go back inside after the car disappeared around the bend. Maybe he’d use the peace and quiet to get some work done. He had some reports to look over and then had to map out the plan for the rollout of Lifeblood.

  Who was he kidding? He knew he was going to spend his afternoon waiting by the phone. Was it too soon to call her?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Syd gunned the engine on the open stretch of road, feeling freer than she had in a long time. Once she was out of Logan’s sight, she pulled over and lowered the motorized convertible top. The wind wiped through her
hair and made the bright leaves on the roadside swirl through the air like confetti. She cranked up Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion,” which had just come on the local classic rock station. She sang loudly as she drove, leaving her worries behind.

  Too soon, she turned into the museum employees’ parking lot. Checking her reflection in the rearview mirror, her cheeks blossomed with color. However, her hair looked exactly like one would expect after driving way too fast with the top down. She reached into her purse to grab a brush. When she pulled her hand out she found she had grabbed her cell phone instead. She winced—four missed calls.

  Crap. Logan must be frantic.

  She hit the Send button. The first ring barely finished before Logan’s angry voice blasted from the earpiece.

  “Where the hell are you?” he yelled so loudly she had to hold the phone away from her ear.

  “Logan, I’m fine. Besides you called before the thirty minutes we agreed upon.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he demanded.

  “I had the top down and the radio on. I couldn’t hear it,” she said defensively.

  “Did we or did we not discuss the possibility of you being followed? How are you supposed to notice if you’re out taking a joy ride?”

  “Believe it or not, it is possible to enjoy oneself and be aware of the surroundings. I kept an eye on the mirrors the whole way here. I’m sorry you were worried, though.”

  She heard his put-upon sigh clearly through the connection.

  “All right, but I want to reiterate that I think this is a really bad idea,” he said.

  “Taken and noted. Now, I just pulled into the museum, so let me get to work. I’ll talk to you in half an hour.”

  “Fine, but next time I call you better pick up on the first ring,” he demanded.