Eternal

by C. C. Hunter

“Scared?”

  “Scared I can’t do it? No. Scared I’ll get another ticket? Yes.”

  He studied her then leaned back in his seat, lowering his glasses to look right at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You already asked that once.”

  “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he said sarcastically, pushing his glasses back up and folding his arms. “But I don’t seem to recall you answering.”

  Della looked back at the gate and envisioned Burnett stepping out. “Let’s go,” she said.

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Let’s go and I’ll tell you.” Or maybe she would.

  He started the car and the motor purred, loud but smooth and powerful. He drove into the street.

  “Start talking,” he said, his voice only slightly raised over the sound of the engine and rush of wind. Thanks to their super hearing, conversation with the top down wasn’t impossible.

  “Burnett and another agent are going to meet us at the airport.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The council is actually sending another agent as well. Supposedly, this Damian is a bad ass.” He glanced at her. “You worried about meeting the council?”

  “A little,” she admitted, letting herself off the hook from explaining anything more. And it was true. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to get information from them. If her uncle wasn’t on that council, she didn’t know how just walking up to them and asking if they knew him would work. No, she realized, what she needed to ask them was why? Why had they sent Chase to help her and Chan? Someone was behind it, weren’t they?

  “If you can handle Burnett, you can handle the council, no problem.”

  And that was the problem. She couldn’t handle Burnett. Not if the meeting today was any indication. It wasn’t Burnett, she reminded herself, but the FRU. She didn’t have a clue how to handle them.

  “Our meeting isn’t until five and it’s close. You want to go back to my place for a while?”

  “What for?” she blurted out before she realized that made her sound like a scared little girl. But she was, wasn’t she? She wasn’t ready for what he might have in mind. Or maybe it hadn’t been in his mind, but now he probably thought it was in hers.

  “We could sit out on the front porch and bird-watch,” he said and smiled ever so slightly.

  Was he making fun of her, or trying to let her know he didn’t have anything else in mind? With his glasses covering his eyes, she couldn’t tell for sure. But other than a few kisses, some sexy banter, oh, and the closet—which she couldn’t blame him for—he hadn’t tried to do anything.

  He’s not trying to pressure me into having sex. She recalled telling Holiday that, and she still believed it.

  “Fine,” she said. “Birding it is.”

  * * *

  It was fine. They went to his place and sat out on the front porch. He brought her a glass of O-negative. It was fresh and tangy. It could have been the best she’d ever had.

  They sat out there for a while without talking. It wasn’t an uncomfortable kind of silence, but peaceful. Baxter joined them. Every few minutes, he’d nudge her leg with his nose for her to pet him. And for right now, Della let herself forget about meeting the council, forget about her powwow with Burnett.

  Several birds fluttered back and forth. He told her the names of the birds. She almost chuckled when she realized he really was a birder. Then, damn it, she realized she kind of liked it, too. Miranda would have a field day with this.

  Then Della’s mind took her back to when she was here before. When a certain bird, named Steve, had shown up.

  Not that she feared he was one of the birds now. He was in Paris. And for some reason, that made getting close to Chase easier. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Not really, her heart spoke up. She had thought about him. And damn if she wasn’t even more confused about how she felt, too.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. She knew how she felt about Steve. In spite of being angry at him for getting close to her when he knew he was about to leave, she still cared about him. Liked him. Liked him too much. Was attracted to him.

  What confused her was that she felt all that for Chase, too.

  And more.

  It was the “and more” part that scared her. Before, she could compare what she felt for Lee to what she felt for Steve. The same emotional draw. The same kind of desire. This, what she felt for Chase, couldn’t be compared to that. It seemed bigger. More intense. More powerful. And she felt more vulnerable to those feelings. Much more than she was with Steve.

  Was it the bond? She didn’t like thinking it was, because she didn’t want anything to have control over her. Even if at times, giving in sounded rather delightful.

  Chase stood up from his chair and came to stand in front of her. He set his sunglasses on top of his head, and then pulled her up. He slid his hands around her waist, and his fingers went slightly under her shirt. He leaned forward. His forehead came against hers.

  “What you said earlier?” His thumbs touched her bare skin and she wondered how just a simple touch could feel so good.

  “About what?” she asked and pulled back just a bit. She knew where this was going. She just didn’t want to go there.

  “I wouldn’t have brought it up, but after what you said—”

  “Then let’s just forget I said anything.”

  “Look, Della, I’m not going to deny that as much as I like those jeans on you, I would love to take them off, but—”

  “Now there’s a come-on line I haven’t heard. What country-western song did you steal that one from?” She glared up at him.

  He frowned. “Let me finish. But … when the time comes, you will be the person to say when. I would never pressure you into doing anything you didn’t want to do. Got that?” he asked. “You say when, not me.”

  His words whispered around her head and made her dizzy from want. Or was her dizziness due to his thumbs making little circles on the tender skin of her waist?

  He exhaled. “For the record, if it was up to me, I would’ve said ‘when’ a long time ago.” He grinned, and while flattered, she was equally flabbergasted.

  She opened her mouth to talk, but nothing came out for a second, and then she finally said, “I’m … I’m not much on saying ‘when.’”

  But his touch, his breath against her temple sent shivers to parts of her body that didn’t normally shiver. And she knew “when” would feel nice on her tongue, just like his hands felt around her waist.

  He arched one eyebrow. “Have you said ‘when’ before?”

  That was it. The feeling of being flattered crashed at her feet and flabbergasted took over in first gear. Had he actually asked her that? She punched him in the gut.

  “Ouch.” He grabbed his abs and stared at her. “That was not nice.”

  She glared at him. “I know. A guy’s not supposed to ask that. You’re lucky I didn’t go for your balls.”

  He took a step back, and now he looked befuddled. “Guys are supposed to ask that. A guy who cares needs to know. You don’t have to tell me now, but before we … go there, we should talk.”

  Embarrassment started making her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. “First, who said we’re going to go there?”

  “I … well, you kind of hinted that you thought I was going to take it there. And we’re bonded, so odds are we’re going there eventually.”

  She stared at him, not believing his nerve. Then she felt her face flush like when she’d had her nose buried in his crotch.

  He studied her. “If you haven’t gone there yet, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” she lied, and then she felt pissed that he made her feel that way. “You’re the one who’s dancing around the word ‘sex.’ I’m not a virgin, I just don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  “Okay,” he said, now looking uncomfortable. “I was trying to be polite.”

  She cut her eyes up
to him. “Are you a virgin?”

  He laughed.

  She wanted to punch him again. Really hard.

  “No … I’m not.”

  “Then why are you laughing? Is it because you’ve got a ton of notches on your belt and you’re proud of them?”

  “No,” he said seriously. And he seemed to grasp for words before he finally said, “I guess I’m a little embarrassed, too. I was trying to deal with this like an adult. But I guess I screwed it up. Give a guy a break.”

  “You’ve asked that once. And you never told me what you wanted broken. But I have a few ideas.”

  He chuckled. “You aren’t going to make anything easy, are you?”

  “If you want easy, you’re climbing down the wrong foxhole.”

  “No, you’re the right one, even if you’re difficult.” He took a step closer.

  She took a step back, remembering her meeting with Burnett. “I wouldn’t count on it.” Then, realizing how much time had passed, she said, “We should probably get going.”

  “I just have to ask one other thing,” he said.

  “What?”

  “This.” And then she was in his arms. And he was kissing her again. And it felt good. Too good. His palms moved up under her shirt to her back. The sweet touch brought back the memory of his hand on her breast and made her want to say “when.”

  Instead, she pulled back and looked up at him. With some effort, she repeated herself. “We should go.”

  “Yeah,” he said and then he touched her nose. “Let’s go introduce you to the council. They are in for a treat.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later—ten minutes that she’d worked feverishly to come up with different scenarios of how to approach the subject of her uncle—Chase pulled into a Benny’s parking lot.

  She stared at the family diner, which was almost like the one her father took them to most Sunday mornings. Or had taken them to … that treat had been dropped since she went to Shadow Falls.

  “Are you kidding me?” Della asked.

  “What?”

  She’d envisioned several different types of meeting places with the Vampire Council, but never a family diner that was mostly a hangout of the over-sixty crowd. “Benny’s? I’m meeting the Vampire Council at a family diner where you can get eggs and raisin toast for a buck ninety-nine?”

  “I personally like their pancakes,” Chase said.

  She continued to stare. “Really?”

  “They’re good pancakes.”

  She tightened her eyes at him, knowing he was toying with her.

  Chase pushed his glasses up on top of his head. “There’s a room in the back that the restaurant rents out.”

  “And they rented it to meet me?” she asked.

  He nodded as if he didn’t see her problem. And maybe it was nerves making her see it as a problem, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. “But this isn’t like their office?”

  “No,” he said.

  “But they have an office?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, they don’t trust me enough to bring me there.”

  His brow crinkled. “You work for the FRU. Just meeting you is a big step.”

  “Burnett took you to the FRU office.”

  “That’s different,” he said.

  “How?”

  “The FRU is listed in the phone book under federal businesses.”

  “I see,” she said. “Because the FRU is a legit, aboveboard type of organization, but the Vampire Council isn’t.”

  He frowned. “Oh, so the FRU has more merit because they hide themselves as a human organization behind the guise of a government identity?”

  “They’re only hiding from the humans. Supernaturals know who they are.”

  “But if the Vampire Council hung up a shingle, the FRU would be there to take it down and put them all in prison.”

  “Only if they committed crimes,” Della said.

  “Right. And being unregistered is a crime.”

  Della had debated this in her mind. It wasn’t unlike the debate between socialists and libertarians. One believed in organized government and the other didn’t want government anywhere near their door.

  “I’ll admit, I don’t see being unregistered as a crime, but the problem is the majority of criminals and evildoers come from that side. They don’t want to be registered because they know they’re up to no good. And because there aren’t any records, their chances of getting away with it are great.”

  “Or they just don’t want someone else poking their noses into their lives. Not everyone who is unregistered is a criminal.”

  “I know,” Della said, “but wasn’t it less than thirty years ago that the Vampire Council farmed humans and used them for food?”

  “Wasn’t it just a little more than thirty years ago that the FRU allowed the hunting of werewolves?”

  “So both organizations have mud on their faces,” Della said, admitting it. “You can’t deny that most all the crimes out there against humans are from those who refuse to be registered. And if any justice is going to be done, we need a way to hold people accountable.”

  “Which is why the Vampire Council has their own unit to attempt to deal with rogues.”

  “The FRU is trying to get the different species to work together.”

  “We aren’t promoting prejudice. We just think that each species should be held accountable for their own.”

  “The Vampire Council was actively trying to shut down Shadow Falls,” she accused.

  “Yes, at the time, they saw it as a brainwashing camp to get teen vampires registered.”

  “That ‘brainwashing camp’ saved my life and it’s saved the lives of many others.”

  “I don’t disagree. The council was wrong. And in the last few years, they’ve stopped their attempts to shut it down.”

  “You’re registered?” she asked, knowing the answer because Burnett had mentioned it before.

  “The council felt it would allow me more cover.”

  “Have you felt it has been an invasion of your privacy?”

  He hesitated.

  “Be honest,” she said.

  “I guess not. But that could change.”

  She frowned. “We aren’t going to agree on this, are we?”

  “Probably not,” he said. “And I’m not taking you in there if all you plan to do is argue politics.”

  “I can’t ask questions?”

  “Questions about the case? Yes.”

  “How about questions about mine and Chan’s case?”

  “I’ve answered all those,” he said, his jaw set firmly.

  “Maybe they know something you don’t.” Or maybe you’re still keeping secrets.

  He ran a hand down his face as if frustrated. “If you came to work for them, you could ask all kinds of questions.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His expression hardened and his hesitation said he was trying to find an answer—so probably something a little off from the truth. “I just meant that as long as you work for the FRU, they aren’t going to completely open up to you.”

  “So what will they hide from me?”

  “I didn’t say they would hide anything,” he said.

  “You implied it,” she countered.

  “I didn’t imply shit,” he said. “Look, go talk to them, but don’t start interrogating them. They won’t like that. And the last thing I want to have to do is…”

  “Is what?” she said.

  He looked at her. Honesty filled his eyes. “Take on the council to defend you. They aren’t Reborns, but they’re bad asses.”

  “You would do that?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “If I had to. But I don’t want to. So behave.”

  “I’m gonna ask questions,” she said.

  His frown tightened. “Fine, ask. But don’t get your back up if you don’t get answers.”

  They got out of the car and walked into Ben
ny’s. The smell of burnt bacon and eggs filled the air. The hostess was a vampire, and after checking their patterns and offering Chase a flirty smile, she motioned for them to go ahead to the back room.

  Della followed him, her stomach a knot of nerves. She almost wished she hadn’t drank the blood at Chase’s place. The door to the back was shut. While he’d been motioned to go on back, he still knocked.

  “Come in,” she heard a low and deep voice say on the other side.

  Chase looked over his shoulder at her and mouthed the word, “Behave.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Unlike the front of the diner, the back room held heavy curtains. And they were closed. The only light came from a chandelier that held a couple of sixty-watt bulbs.

  Six men sat behind a long table. Della’s gaze shifted fast, taking in each of their faces, searching for one face. The face of her father. Or rather, her father’s identical twin.

  He wasn’t there.

  Disappointment stirred in her already nervous gut. Though, why she thought it would be that easy was beyond her. But that didn’t mean her uncle wasn’t behind this.

  Chase introduced her. He didn’t give the names of the men individually, just calling them the Vampire Council. And she supposed that was all she was going to get.

  They didn’t stand up, but nodded their heads appropriately. Each of them had a brown mug set in front of them. She’d bet it wasn’t coffee in those mugs.

  She studied them each briefly. Not one of them was Asian. Two looked Hispanic, one Native American, one African-American, and the other two were Caucasian. Their ages ranged from early thirties to early hundreds. Or at least, that one Hispanic dude appeared older than dirt.

  For some reason, she remembered finding herself in the courtroom with the FRU judge and jurors.

  In front of the long Benny’s table were two chairs.

  “Miss Tsang, Mr. Tallman,” the oldest of the group spoke. “Please sit. Would you like something to drink?”

  Della found her mouth a little dry, but didn’t think her stomach would take anything. She forced herself to move to the chair and to speak. “No, thank you.”

  “We have heard wonderful reports from Mr. Tallman about you,” another of the men said.

  “I’m sure he exaggerates,” Della answered.