by Lynsay Sands
"As your life mate Tomasso cannot read you," Dante said with amusement.
"Oh," Abigail exhaled with relief, then her eyes widened and she speared the man with a look as she squeaked, "But you can?"
He nodded with a grin and Abigail groaned. They were twins. He would surely tell Tomasso what he read in her mind. All the dirty little things she wanted to do to him. How much she already cared for him. The new fantasy she'd started having about him since learning he was a closet geek.
"Clark Kent?" Dante asked suddenly, confusion plain on his face, and Abigail groaned. That was the one. Tomasso in a suit and thick glasses, his hair back in a ponytail so that he looked like a geeky Clark Kent. Then he whipped off the glasses and ripped open his suit and shirt to reveal his big beautiful chest . . . Minus the Superman bodysuit and cape, of course. Fortunately, that particular fantasy hadn't got much farther than that so far. She'd only discovered Tomasso's smart side quite recently after all, which was a good thing, she decided, scowling at the wide grin on Dante's face.
Shaking his head, he turned to Tomasso and piled the two bags of blood he held on top of the two Tomasso already carried.
"You do not need me for this, brother," he assured him, patting his shoulder. "In fact, I think you will do better without me. Use the method we tried with Jackie."
"Vincent's Jackie?" Tomasso asked with a frown, managing to hold on to all four bags.
"Si." Dante headed for the door. "You remember. It failed with Christian, but succeeded with Vincent."
"Oh," Tomasso murmured thoughtfully. "Si."
Abigail's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched Dante leave, and then she turned her gaze to Tomasso. "What method is he talking about?"
Rather than answer, he started determinedly forward.
Abigail backed up a nervous step, but paused when she felt the bed behind her and teetered briefly before dropping to sit on the edge of the bed. When Tomasso continued forward, however, resolve on his face, she began to crawl backward across the bed, but was too slow. Tomasso immediately tossed the blood bags on the duvet next to her, and then crawled onto the bed after her, moving forward until his body was over hers. He then dropped, his weight pinning her to the mattress.
"Er . . ." Abigail muttered uncertainly. "I thought I was supposed to--oh," she gasped with surprise when he bent his head to nip lightly at her ear even as he shifted his hips, to grind against her. "That's . . . er . . . oh," she said again as his hand covered her breast through the sundress.
Abigail's body immediately responded to the caress, her back arching to press her breast more fully into his palm and her hands creeping out to slide around his neck. The moment she did that, Tomasso kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers in demand.
Groaning, Abigail kissed him back, dinner quite forgotten as a new hunger claimed her attention. She was so caught up in the mounting excitement he was stirring to life in her, that Abigail hardly noticed the shifting sensation in her mouth. When she tasted blood on her tongue a moment later, rather than be repulsed, she found her excitement heightened and began to suck on Tomasso's tongue, the source of the blood.
She'd barely begun to do that though, when Tomasso broke their kiss, held her down with a hand on her chest and suddenly popped one of the blood bags to her mouth.
Abigail blinked at him over the bag, then lowered her gaze to peer at the bag itself, her eyes widening as she saw that it appeared to be shrinking. She didn't taste blood anymore though, she thought with confusion.
"Your fangs draw the blood up and straight into your system," Tomasso explained. If it weren't for the fact that she could feel his erection pressing against her leg, she would have worried that their kiss hadn't affected him at all.
Abigail stared at him as they waited for the bag to empty. A million questions were running through her mind, but she couldn't ask a single one, and didn't get the chance when he removed the bag either. Even as he tore the now empty first bag away, he was popping a second, full one onto her apparently extended fangs.
Sighing, Abigail relaxed back into the bed to wait. Much to her regret, Tomasso then eased off to lie on his side next to her. She immediately missed his warmth and weight, but couldn't protest with her mouth full of bag. They remained like that through the four bags Dante had recommended and then Tomasso tore the last one off, caught her hand and stood, pulling her with him.
"Waith, I wanth thoo--Ow!" Abigail gasped as her still extended fangs cut into her own tongue.
"Let me see," Tomasso murmured, clasping her face between his hands and tilting her face to examine her mouth when she opened it. "A small cut. It is already healing," he assured her. Then he met her gaze and advised, "Never talk with your fangs out."
Abigail nodded that she understood.
"They will shift back into place in a moment," he reassured her. "Now, we must go. Dinner, remember?"
Right. Dinner, Abigail thought. The others were waiting. Her questions would have to wait until later.
Twelve
There were several restaurants at the resort, each with its own flavor. They had a choice between Mediterranean, Italian, French, seafood, haute cuisine, or a pub-style restaurant serving more pedestrian food. While they all sounded interesting, the group consensus turned out to be Italian.
Abigail had no idea what time it was. Her watch seemed to be missing; at least, it wasn't on her wrist when she went to check it, but apparently it was still early for dinner, and that was why they got a table without having to wait. They were seated at a round table near the back of the dimly lit restaurant, and offered water, red or white house wine, and a basket of bread to snack on as they perused the menu. Abigail was grateful for the bread as she looked over the restaurant's offerings. Everything on the menu sounded delicious and she was absolutely starved. Although the blood did appear to have curbed her thirst quite a bit, she noted.
"Everything looks so good," Mary said with a sigh.
"I know," Abigail moaned. "And I haven't eaten in a week. Do you think it would be rude of me to order one of everything?"
"I don't know about rude, but I'd like to see the waiter's face if you did," Justin said on a laugh.
"Si," Dante said with a grin. "He would no doubt swallow his tongue if a skinny little thing like you ordered so much."
Abigail blinked at the comment. Skinny little thing? She hadn't been called a skinny little thing since . . . well . . . ever. Her gaze slid from the menu to what she could see of her body and she gave her head a little shake. Even with the turn she was not really skinny. She had curves and even a slightly rounded stomach, although it wasn't a muffin top, just a . . . Abigail couldn't think of a word to describe it, but it wasn't completely flat.
She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that she wasn't now model thin as she'd longed for her whole life. Models were not a healthy weight. If a person had to starve themselves or throw up to get to the desired weight, it probably wasn't a healthy weight to be. Actually, now that Abigail thought about it, models were a terrible role model for young girls, and they just made healthy women feel fat. Who picked those models? she wondered.
The waiter appeared at the table and Abigail let her thoughts drift away to concentrate on more pleasant matters. Food. Much to Justin's disappointment, she didn't order everything on the menu. She did order three dishes though, Fettuccini Alfredo, Bistecca Florentina, and Cappon Magro. Pasta, steak, and shrimp seemed like a good mix to her. Although to be fair to herself the Cappon Magro was actually a salad with vegetables and shrimp, so she didn't feel like she was being too, too bad by ordering the trio.
The moment they finished giving their orders, the waiter whisked away their menus and left them to chat desultorily around the table as they waited for their food to be prepared. Abigail sat back and listened as the group talked, but couldn't help noticing that Dante was almost as much of a grunter as Tomasso was and Lucian Argeneau surpassed them, hardly saying anything at all. It was Justin Bricker and Mary who carrie
d most of the conversation, Mary asking gentle questions that soon had Justin Bricker spilling his guts all over the table about his family in California, his life mate Holly and their life together, until the meal arrived.
The conversation fell away then as they turned their attention to eating. Despite not having eaten for a week, Abigail could not possibly eat the three dishes they brought out to her. Each was a full meal on its own. Fortunately, Dante and Tomasso were happy to help and her plates were quickly picked clean.
Smiling over that, Abigail leaned back to get out of the way as their plates were quickly cleared away, and then glanced from Tomasso on her right, to Dante on the other side of Mary who was on her left. She was thinking back to when Justin had been talking about his family in California. Curious, she glanced to Tomasso and asked, "Do you have family?"
When he raised his eyebrows at the question, she rolled her own eyes and said, "I mean I know you have Dante." She smiled at the twin, before continuing, "But you've never mentioned parents or other siblings."
"Ah." Tomasso smiled faintly and nodded. "Si. Three brothers. One sister."
"All older," Dante added. "But I am sure we will have younger siblings soon enough."
"Your parents are still alive and young enough to have children?" Abigail asked with amazement. She then slapped herself in the forehead before anyone could respond, and muttered, "Of course. Peak condition."
"Si," Tomasso said gently.
"It makes for big families," Dante said wryly. "We have many, many aunts and uncles, and even more cousins. And our grandparents still live."
Abigail was gaping at this news when Mary asked, "What about you, Abigail? Do you have family? Siblings, parents, children of your own?"
"No," Abigail admitted, and then forcing herself to let go of the sudden trepidation she'd felt on learning the size of Tomasso's family, she managed a smile and explained, "I was an only child and my mother just passed."
"Oh." Mary's smile dimmed slightly and then she forced it wider, picked up her wineglass and held it up expectantly as she said, "Then it is good that you have met Tomasso. He and Dante have a large family to share with us."
"I'll drink to that," Abigail said brightly, and raised her own glass to clink it against Mary's. She smiled as she sipped the wine, but it was not a true smile. The fact was, Abigail found the idea of Tomasso's family a bit alarming. It meant she would eventually have to go through the whole "meet the parents" thing. Something he didn't have to go through with her. Lucky bastard, she thought.
Shaking that worry away, she asked Mary, "So you don't have family either?"
Abigail knew at once that she'd stepped in it with that question. The silence around the table was immediate and complete. No one even moved. Much to Abigail's surprise it was Lucian Argeneau who broke the silence.
"Mary has family, including adult children and young grandchildren," he announced.
"Really?" Abigail asked with amazement, then noted the way Dante was scowling at Lucian and followed his gaze in time to see the blond man raise one supercilious eyebrow.
"Stop glaring at me, Dante," Lucian said mildly. "Not talking about them will not make it easier on Mary."
"She cries when we talk about her children," Dante said stiffly.
"And she cries when you do not," Lucian said sharply. "But it is better for her to get it out, than to hide her grief and let it fester because she thinks it a burden on your conscience."
Dante glanced to Mary with dismay, and she immediately patted his arm where it rested next to hers on the table. "It is all right. I am fine."
"Are you hiding your tears from me, Mary?" he asked with a frown.
Rather than answer, she turned to Abigail and explained, "I am older than I now look. Until a week or so ago I was a sixty-two-year-old grandma with, as Lucian said, kids and grandkids."
Abigail hesitated, but then ignored Dante's brooding expression and raised her glass as she complimented, "You look damned fine for sixty-two, Mary."
Mary smiled for real this time and clinked her glass against Abigail's. They drank, both of them actually downing what was left in their glasses, which was almost a full glass for Abigail, and half a glass for Mary.
"I don't suppose either of you Romeos mentioned to the ladies that alcohol has no effect on us, did you?" Justin asked with amusement as Mary and Abigail set their glasses down. "At least not the fun kind of effect."
Abigail glanced at him worriedly. "What kind of effect does it have then?"
"The alcohol will be cleaned from your system, but not by your liver," he said, phrasing it carefully enough that Abigail realized they probably shouldn't have been talking about Mary's advanced years as openly as they had.
Leaving that worry for now, she concentrated on what Justin had said, quickly working out that the nanos would flush the alcohol from their system, probably before it could affect them. But that it would mean having to take in more blood to make up for it.
Just as Abigail's eyes widened with dismay at that realization, Mary raised her hand to wave the waiter over.
"More wine, miss?" the waiter asked as he paused just behind Mary and Abigail.
"No, thank you," Mary said wryly. "In fact, can you take my glass away and bring me a glass of water instead? And perhaps a cappuccino?"
"The same for me, please," Abigail announced, passing her empty glass to the man so he didn't have to reach around her.
She wasn't terribly surprised when the men all followed suit, each requesting a coffee or cappuccino and water.
"Well," Mary said as the waiter moved away. "You learn something new every day."
"I am sorry, Mary," Dante murmured. "I should have mentioned . . ."
"Don't be," Mary interrupted, waving his apology away and smiling at him. "There is no doubt a lot you haven't got the chance to tell me. We'll get there eventually."
Abigail watched the couple smile at each other, waiting until they turned back to the group before asking, "So you and Dante haven't been together long either?" And then realizing how presumptuous that was she added, "Or have you had a long courtship?"
Mary chuckled softly and shook her head. "Not long at all. I think it's been . . ." She paused, peering upward as she tried to work it out. Finally she shook her head. "Maybe a week and a half."
Abigail's eyebrows rose. "Really? But that's how long it's been since I met Tomasso."
"Eight days," Tomasso corrected.
She glanced to him in question, then said, "Four days on the beach."
"Si."
"And then I was sick."
"Two days," he announced.
"Really?" she asked with surprise. "It felt like forever to me."
"Me too," he acknowledged. "A very bad two days, but still two days."
"Oh," Abigail sighed. Then asked, "And how long was I under when you . . . er . . . did the . . . er . . ." Glancing around nervously, she whispered, "Turning thing?"
"Two days," he said again.
"Hmmm. Eight days then."
"You must have met on that plane the day after I escaped," Dante commented.
"Good," Mary said cheerfully, leaning sideways to bump her arm against Abigail's. "We can be newbies at this together then."
"Sounds good," Abigail responded with a smile. At least she wasn't alone in this. She and Mary could commiserate as they tried to adjust to their new lives.
"So," Tomasso murmured then, and glanced from his brother to the other two men. "Have any more immortals been taken since Dante and I?"
Abigail stilled and glanced around the table at this question as some of what Tomasso had told her began to make more sense for her. She'd wondered why an Italian visiting Canada would be involved in helping to sort out kidnappings in Texas. Now she knew why. The victims had obviously all been immortals.
"No," Lucian answered. "The pair of you appear to have thrown a wrench in the works with your escapes."
"How?" Tomasso asked with a frown.
Lu
cian said simply, "The men pursuing Dante when he fled, later took Mary and died in a crash for their efforts."
Dismayed at the thought of Mary being taken, Abigail glanced to the other woman and caught guilt flashing across her face.
"I caused the accident," Mary admitted with a sigh when she caught Abigail's curious expression.
"Oh," Abigail said softly, and then added in her defense, "If they kidnapped you, they deserved it."
"They did," Lucian agreed and turned to Tomasso to continue. "And as far as Mortimer has been able to learn, the men who took you set down in Puerto Rico, raised a search to try to find you, then flew to Puerto Plata to start another search effort."
Abigail froze at this news, and then turned from Mary to grab Tomasso's arm, gasping, "Jet!"
"Tomasso asked Mortimer to look into your friend when he called," Lucian announced. "As near as he has been able to find out, the pilot Jethro Lassiter parted ways with his clients in Puerto Rico. He set down at the Puerto Plata airport two days after you two left the plane and has been searching all the coastal areas as well, on his own."
"Oh," Abigail said with relief. Jet had got away from his clients okay. And he was looking for her, she realized . . . while she had forgotten all about him. Jet should have been her first, or at least one of her first concerns on waking today, she thought unhappily. Instead it had taken someone else prodding her memory with news of others to even make her think of the man who was like a brother to her and the only thing even close to real family that she had left. Abigail couldn't believe she'd been so uncaring and such a horrible friend. Here Jet was searching the area all by himself and she hadn't even thought to ask if there was news of him.
"Mortimer was sending someone to find and handle Jethro Lassiter."
Abigail glanced around sharply at that comment from Lucian and narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean? Handle him?"
"He will be reassured that you are fine and sent back to his life unconcerned," Lucian announced.
"Unconcerned?" she asked with bewilderment. "What do you mean unconcerned? If he's gone to the trouble of mounting a search here, he'll want to speak to me to be sure I'm fine."