by Mandy Rosko
He stood and grabbed a paper towel to wipe up the mess on the table, walls and floor. He wasn't laughing at her, he laughed to try and lighten the mood. Wrong thing to do.
"Fucking idiot."
When her kitchen was clean he pulled out his bag, dressed in clothes that didn’t stink of morgue, and then went searching in her cupboards. He found a glass vase in one of them, filled it with water and let the roses he’d bought her fall inside before placing them under the light. He stood back and looked at their bright red and green color in contrast to the plain kitchen. He doubted she’d want them now.
He wished she had more bright things in her life, and he wished he hadn't screwed up so bad. Talking about feelings, no matter how hard he tried, was never his strong point.
He stepped up to her door, his fist raised to knock but at the sound of her sobbing, he pulled back.
Kyle opened his mouth, an, are you alright? stuck in his throat. He couldn't speak.
Let her cry it out, get those emotions out of her and then maybe she'll talk to him again and he wouldn't make an ass of himself.
The insides of Kyle's chest constricted, and he leaned against the wall and grabbed his chest. Shit, he was feeling what she was feeling again and it really fucking hurt.
Was this what she'd meant when she said that being someone's perfect match didn't matter? That soul mate or not, he could still hurt her?
Yes, he lusted after her. He had to admit it since there was no point in hiding it while his erection pressed happily against her leg, but he cared for her too, something he’d failed to mention. He cared enough to be her bodyguard despite how it wasn't his occupation anymore.
He’d told her the truth as far as being sick of holding back over a promise he made to himself in New York. A stupid thing he’d done after her sister cursed him. But he hadn’t known anything like this would happen. How could he have known he would come here and meet the woman who stirred his insides more than anyone ever had?
He’d also claimed she was no longer a client since she was likely not in any danger, but if he was honest with himself he knew otherwise. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t feel the need to be close and ensure her safety.
He grabbed his bag of things from the living room, sat at the table, and pulled out a pen and pad of paper to write on. If he was going to continue living in her apartment he’d make the most of it and work.
Someone out there hated vampires enough to want to kill anyone who got in the way of that belief, including the innocent people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. As a half vampire, Kyle was endangering Jackie just by sitting there, but he couldn't leave until he knew for sure that Mike's theory was correct, and the killer was caught.
The only person he'd met in this town who hated vampires enough to at least be rude to one was Jackie's librarian friend, Charity. The problem was that being rude and being a killer weren’t necessarily the same thing.
He wrote down her name, her motive, but stopped at opportunity. He also couldn't figure out why, if she was the killer, she would want to off a man who hated vampires as well. Unless he objected to the thought of killing his daughter to the point that their mission was jeopardized, but there was nothing written in stone that said that either.
Kyle sighed and continued to think. One suspect didn’t help anyone, especially Jackie. He needed to work to ensure she stayed safe while he waited for her to come out of her room so he could apologize.
He decided to call Carter and tell him about his theory.
***
She waited outside the hospital for a time, contemplating going back in or simply staying a little longer for her prey to come out. If only it wasn't so damn cold.
Going inside would get her seen with that thing, that vampire. That disgrace to God and everything good. Then the police, hypocrites that they are, would come looking for her, asking questions. They would watch her and try to save the thing, as though it were alive. A real human being.
It would ruin everything she struggled to build.
Vampires are already dead and keeping them around was only asking for trouble. They could go feral and attack anyone in the night and there would be nothing that the victims could do but run away as the bodies of their loved ones were torn apart, mangled, and eaten.
The last of her ferals, in fact, the only one that half breed hadn’t killed had wandered back to her. It was so mangled she had to put it down, then sneak away to dispose of the body. Waste of time that it was. Now she needed more.
They were a waste of manpower and blood. A hundred and fifty years ago it would have been legal to kill a vampire on sight. The killer would have been hailed as a hero, respected, and admired. Everyone would’ve known his name and been his friend.
Not today.
Today, anyone who killed a vampire was arrested, treated like a criminal and sent to prison with all the other lowlifes. It was time to set things right.
That bitch was just as responsible for the death of her ferals as the cursed man. More were needed and more she would get, starting with Evey Smith.
She shivered and blew into her hands. She could wait out in the cold for her, even with the engine off and her car gathering frost. She was strong and could stick with the plan, be patient. Like a soldier she'd stay at her post and wait for the enemy to show herself.
Not ten minutes later a skinny figure with an arm in a cast wearing a white robe large enough to keep the sun at bay strolled out of the hospital.
She grinned. Vamps didn’t normally venture into the light despite thick robes in reflective colors, but the grey clouds hanging in thick, low curtains made for the perfect opportunity to bundle up and move about in the daytime.
"Couldn’t wait until sundown, could we?"
She started her engine and drove up. Should be easy enough since Evey knew who she was.
After this she had to find a way to deal with that traitor and her half blood boyfriend.
FOURTEEN
Jackie heard Kyle shuffling around her kitchen and living room. She contemplated throwing him out of her apartment altogether.
She punched her pillow instead. Damn him, damn his nosiness and damn his stupid muffins! It was no business of his how Patty treated her, or how much she was hurt by it.
The problem was that she almost couldn’t blame him because he could sense her emotions. Every single time she became sad about her mother or jealous over her sister, he would have known it and felt her pain.
She groaned, hiding her face under her blanket, trying to push away the memories of how she yelled at him. No wonder he was being so pushy.
She sunk her tear streaked face back into her feather pillow to hide another groan. She'd known he could do that with her, why hadn't she thought of it during his questioning? No matter how pig headed it was. Maybe she shouldn't have blown up at him like that. She certainly could’ve put a lid on her outbursts and handled the situation with a bit more grace.
Why he wanted to stay after that, she didn’t know.
Though she wanted to fall back to sleep she raised herself up. She avoided looking into the giant mirror on her dresser—her post crying face the last thing she wanted to see—and reached over to the nightstand for her cordless.
She held the phone in her hands for some minutes. What would she say? How would she say it? Despite how much she hated it, Kyle was right. Her mother shouldn't be treating her like this, and she was right the night before when she said it was unfair of her to show so much more affection for her sister.
Though she was nearly thirty years old, this wasn't something she was imagining like an angsty teen, and it hurt like Hell.
Her door creaked open and she sat up as artificial light poured into the dark room.
She could see the tall, black silhouette that was Kyle standing there. She couldn't see the look on his face but she did see how his fingers twitched on the doorknob, and noticed how his head was turned so he wouldn’t have to look at her. His body lan
guage radiated uncertainty.
"Are you alright?"
Her heart fluttered pathetically at his question. Get a hold of yourself. "I'm fine."
She wanted to focus herself so that she could feel what he felt, but her mind was too scrambled. Her ears worked perfectly though and she knew he was worried about her.
"I know that you're not," he said.
His worry made her smile. It wasn’t very much, but a man who didn’t care didn’t come into rooms uninvited asking if the woman inside was alright.
He stepped into her room and shut the door. Her body tightened like a guitar string when darkness hid him from her sight. Not even the dim morning light outside penetrated her thick curtains. "I didn't say you could come in here."
"I'll be gone in a sec." Her bed dipped when he sat down and she tensed.
“We’re not having sex.” She was ready to forgive, not open her legs.
“I didn’t say I wanted to.” He sounded irritated, and she realized suddenly it probably had to do with his comment about being here for only a second, and hers about sex.
Good. She was glad she insulted him.
He came no closer but did not reach a hand out to touch her. He took a breath. "I'm sorry. You were right, it was not my business to talk to you about your mother or sister. It won't happen again."
She blinked. Her eyes adjusted to the dark again so she could see where he sat, looking at her, waiting. "I thought you came in here to lecture me again."
"Like I said, you were right when you said it wasn't my business."
She sat a little straighter, wrapping her arms around her knees, touched that he could come in here and say that. If only she knew what he expected of her.
She swallowed and nodded. "Well, good. As long as you know that."
He shook his head and raked his hand through his hair. “I guess because I never had to compete with my brother like that … I don’t know, I thought it wasn’t right that you had to, or something, I don’t know.”
When he looked at her she could feel his eyes devouring what he saw. “You deserve better than that.”
The heat pooled from his body and into the sheets. It spread to her feet and climbed up her legs. They tingled and twitched to be touched. Her heart sped up and in the dark she was hyper aware of everything around her, including him.
He had to be doing it to her. "Kyle, what are you thinking about now?"
He got off the bed and went for the door, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. "I'm thinking that I need to get back to work before we start something." He looked back at her, and this time she felt the heat from his eyes like a laser. "I'll still be here if you need anything."
She put her hands to her cheeks and felt the feverish temperature. If he wasn't sending her these thoughts then he would feel them coming from her at any minute, if he didn't already. "I'll be fine."
He stayed staring at her, his hand on the doorknob, and she knew he felt it. She wanted him to come back to bed with her. She didn’t want him to come to bed with her.
She didn't know what she wanted more, for him to go or stay. The wait strung her up tighter.
Finally he opened the door, and she was blinded from the hallway light. "Goodnight."
“I’m not going back to sleep,” she said. Throwing herself out of bed, she decided she might as well get up, pretend that what she'd been thinking about never happened, and make herself a pot of coffee.
He looked her up and down and turned away. Jackie’s hyperawareness extended to her noticing she wore no bra or panties under her pajamas. She couldn’t bring herself to care. “I’ll let you get dressed then.”
He shut the door behind him.
Fine. Jackie wanted a few minutes to collect herself before getting ready.
She grabbed her good outfit from her closet and the best color eye shadow she had before rushing out of her room and into the bathroom.
She didn’t have forever to do this. She didn’t want him to think she was going through any extra effort. She showered and washed her hair and face quickly before stepping out and throwing on her red sweater with the deep scoop at the neck. Her dark blue-almost-black jeans clung to her hips and made her legs look longer and slimmer under the fluffy sweater. She colored her eyes with the hazelnut eye shadow and glossy lipstick, and let her damp limp hair hang loosely around her shoulders. She looked at herself sideways five times before deciding she was ready.
When she stepped out Kyle was not waiting for her like a lost puppy, ready to see how amazing-in-a-casual-way she looked like she’d hoped. He was on the phone, talking in quick whispers.
Curious, and telling herself she wasn't spying, Jackie cleared her thoughts and decided to simply listen while slowly going through the motions of quietly filling her cereal bowl with Frosted Flakes while his back was turned. After today she needed extra sugar anyway.
"I know it's not much to go on but I thought you'd like to know."
There was a wait on the other line, Jackie heard Mike’s voice but couldn't understand what he said.
Whatever it was, it was enough to keep Kyle preoccupied, unaware she was nearby, pitter-pattering about the kitchen.
"So she says, but Jackie told me herself that she hates vampires. That could explain a lot; she hires some people to help her, kidnaps Charles Clayton, kills him when he loses his ability to be useful because she now knows how to make those collars. I think you should at least look into it, see if she has an alibi. A woman who watches her husband get killed isn't likely to let that go."
Jackie gasped and dropped her bowl. It shattered loudly on the floor at her feet.
Kyle spun and held her in place with his eyes without meaning to.
"I'll call you back." He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply. "I didn't want you to hear that."
Embarrassment had her looking away from him. "Why not? If you think it's her then that needs to be checked out."
He cocked his head and cautiously stepped forward. "I thought she was your friend? You're not angry I think she's connected somehow?"
Ah, so that's what this was about. "She and I are friends, but she hasn't been the same since her husband died. With good reason, mind you, but we’ve barely spoke since then. And after how she walked out at the coffee shop I'd say I barely know her anymore. But I will say that the Charity I know wouldn't think of doing what you think she did."
"I'm not saying she did it. What I'm saying is that she should be checked out."
Jackie knelt down and started picking up the ceramic pieces of the bowl. Good thing she hadn’t filled it with milk yet. "So check her out. It’s your job, right?"
She heard his rough sigh, what she didn't hear were his footsteps until he stood directly in front of her.
She paused as he knelt before her, his knees nearly in the spilled cereal and remaining glass as he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her, simply holding her. His warm breath on her neck sent a shiver inside her body.
No one had ever hugged her like this before.
"I'm telling you this because every time something bothers you, or hurts your feelings, I feel it too, and because I'm trying to be honest with you, I let you know things you don't necessarily need to know."
"Kyle?"
He backed off but didn’t remove his hands from her person. He moved them to her arms but even there they were not still. His thumbs worked soothing circles over the fabric of her sweater and into her skin.
“Kyle?” she asked again.
"Hmm?"
"If it'd turned out that Carly was your match, would you have been happy about it?"
His thumbs stopped working. He released her and got up. She dropped the pieces of the bowl and got up too, facing him. She got a good look at the confusion in his eyes.
"And here I was just thinking of how nice you look and how calm everything was. No, I wouldn’t have been happy about it. But she's not my match so what does it matter?"
"But say she had been."
Jackie fisted her hands into her damp hair to keep from punching him. "I’m not trying to start a fight, but you're missing the point. I didn't tell you we were matched, because, as an outsider, you think that just because we're matched means that we have to be together or something. If your match had been Carly, or my mother, or even Mike, what would you have done?"
He rubbed his square chin. "Ran for it, probably. Especially if it’d been Carter."
He grinned but she ignored his attempt to lighten the mood.
"Exactly." She looked at him, waiting for him to now see it the way she saw it, but that recognition didn't come. "If you would run if you found out your match was any one of those people, how come you don't run with me?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I suppose I should be grateful you want to talk about this so soon after our last chat."
"I'm being serious."
He took a seat at the table. "So am I. You want to know the reason why I stick around? Well, apart from the fact that I’ve made it my unofficial job to keep you safe, which I've been slacking off on because I'm feeling something for my client, again, I stay because every night you can keep me normal. That’s three reasons. Good enough for you?"
Her body shook and her eyes blurred, she got up to punch him like she'd fantasized about earlier when the rest of his sentence caught up with her, stopping her fist in the air.
"You have feelings for me?"
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lowered her arm. "Yes."
She shook her head, more to herself than to him, banishing the anger inside of her. "I thought you only wanted sex."
Kyle's body tensed. "You thought I was only here because I wanted sex?”
“To be fair, you never said you had feelings for me before now,” she said quickly.
He covered his face with his hand. “Why do women always need to hear this? Alright. I’m sorry, maybe I should’ve said something, but I’m not an emotional talker. If all I ever wanted was to hit the mattress with someone I could've gone out and gotten it with no problem at all.”