by Tessa Bailey
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Tucker said, straightening with her beer in his hand. “He pours it into a glass, like a fancy asshole.”
“I didn’t realize I was thinking out loud. I do that sometimes.”
“I noticed. It’s probably another reason you drive him crazy.”
Ginny rubbed at the funny feeling in her chest and cut a look toward the door, willing Jonas to walk in. His presence was so dense in the apartment, like a heavy cloak wrapped around her, making the need to see him severe and inescapable. “Is he safe wherever he’s gone?”
Tucker uncapped the bottle and paused. “Jonas? Hell yeah, he’s safe. Dude might be a pretty boy, but he wrangles rookies on a weekly basis without batting an eyelash. Brings them to heel.” He handed Ginny the beer. “You’re in good hands. Jonas Cantrell is a bad motherfucker.”
“Cantrell,” she whispered, treasuring the knowledge of his last name.
The vampire did a double take, cursed. “I’ve got a big mouth.”
“It’s all going to get erased,” she murmured, starting on her second drink.
“Uh-huh.” Tucker retreated to the mantle in a blur. “So what do you do for fun, Ginny?” His smile was full of mischief. “Besides tempt the prince to break the rules, that is?”
Her breath stuttered in her lungs at the reality that she could be bad for Jonas. Really bad. She’d been so swept up in the realization that vampires existed and one was possibly trying to kill her for an unknown reason that she hadn’t taken the time to think about the implications for Jonas. By protecting her, he was putting himself in jeopardy. “Um,” she managed. “I’m in a dress making club. Embrace the Lace Dressmaking Endeavors. We have an expo coming up, actually. With a silent auction and everyth—”
The front door opened and Elias whooshed into the apartment, overcoat spinning around his knees, the collar still guarding his face from view, like earlier.
“Hey, buddy,” Tucker called, good-naturedly. “We were just talking about what a kinky bastard you are.”
No response, just a tensing of his shoulders.
“We weren’t really,” Ginny stuck in quickly, shooting Tucker a stern look. “Did you find Roksana?”
“No, I did not,” he rasped from behind his collar. “The reckless brat.”
Ginny’s spine snapped straight at the unfounded name calling of her friend. Her only friend, to be accurate. “How do you know she’s being reckless?”
Elias turned slightly, without revealing his face. “Have you met her?”
The menace in Elias’s voice temporarily muddled her thoughts—along with the beer—and she found herself saying, rather stupidly, “She mentioned you to me.”
A very subtle ripple went through him. “Did she.”
Ginny nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “In a fond way.”
Elias went back out the front door with a curse.
Jonas caught the door before it could close, his eyes snapping with green and spearing right into her.
The lights flickered in the apartment, turning the beer in Ginny’s stomach to sour sludge. Was he manipulating the electricity? Or was that just a coincidence?
“Honey, it’s not what it looks like,” Tucker cried. “We thought about you the entire time.”
Jonas set down the shopping bag in his hand and flexed his fingers. “You couldn’t follow instructions for fifteen minutes?”
“She tricked me.”
“It hardly took an effort.” She looked down at the bottle, surprised to find it was empty—and why was she holding two of them? Wait, no. One. No…two. “I do have to use the restroom now.”
Tucker laughed. “Beer’ll do that to you.”
“This is very cozy,” Jonas drawled, though his expression was tight and intent on Ginny. “Back to my room, please.”
She set down her empty beer bottle on the coffee table. “If I’m going to stay here for any length of time, I have to be allowed to roam freely.”
“She wants to be a free-range human, prince,” Tucker translated.
Jonas’s jaw popped. “We’ll talk about this when we’re alone.”
A ding went off somewhere in the apartment. Ginny turned in a circle, searching for the source of the familiar sound. It took her a good fifteen seconds to realize it was coming from the cell phone still stowed in her dress pocket. She used it so rarely, she’d forgotten it was there, but she took it out now and tapped the button to bring up her email. “Oh!” Hot moisture pooled in her eyes. “Great news! We have a body being brought into the morgue tomorrow.”
“She’s a keeper,” Tucker said without missing a beat.
Before Ginny could respond, she found herself being carried down the hallway cradled against Jonas’s chest, moving somewhere between a sedate walk and warp speed. “I guess I should thank you for not putting me in shackles.”
He slowed outside of a door, measuring her with a look. “Did some exploring, did you?”
“More like memory gathering. You won’t get them all. It’ll be like playing a whack-a-mole.”
With a troubled brow, he shouldered open a door and turned on the light to reveal a small, clean, white-tiled bathroom. With no mirrors, of course. He set her down in the center of the floor, but kept her close. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like a prisoner.” His one-eyed, sheepish squint made him so handsome she swayed closer out of sheer necessity. “Technically, you weren’t supposed to know you’d been locked in. You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t cooperate.”
“No, you went and had a little party, didn’t you?” He traced her hairline with his thumb. “I’m being irrational, aren’t I? That’s the opposite of me. I never have a hard time keeping a lid on my impulses.”
“What impulses are you having?”
“Wanting to blind anyone who looks at you,” Jonas murmured, his thumb traveling in circles in the hollow of her throat now. “Wanting to deafen anyone who hears you speak, so I’ll be the only one who gets to experience the music of your voice. You know, normal, well-adjusted impulses.”
Ginny couldn’t catch her breath enough to laugh. “I thought we couldn’t be together.”
Jonas’s expression blazed with regret, but it was no less possessive. “I’m going to guard you while you sleep and make you eggs in the morning. That’s what I know.” His lips brushed her forehead. “When I think too far into the future, I can’t focus on your safety. Here and now only.”
“Here and now only,” she repeated. “I guess that’s our only choice.” Jonas’s body vibrated against hers, those bright green eyes catching on her features, his fingertips moving in her face, neck, chin. Even while held in his thrall, though, something occurred to her. “If you can hear my heartbeat, you can probably hear me…using the ladies room for its intended function…anywhere in this apartment.”
Jonas’s brow quirked. “That bothers you?”
“I think so, yes.”
His laughter was warm as he pushed her gently toward the toilet. “I’ve got you covered.”
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind Jonas, she gathered her skirt in her hands and sat down on the toilet. Seconds later, heavy metal blared from the living room and she laughed into her cupped hands, finally relieving her full bladder.
He was waiting in the hallway when she emerged, looking sinfully attractive with his head tipped slightly forward, pieces of midnight hair brushing his brow, tongue tucked into his cheek. He signaled down the hallway to Tucker and the music cut out, then he tipped his head in the direction of his bedroom. “Ready?”
It might have been the beer, the odd situation—she was living among vampires?—or just The Jonas Effect, but she swore they glided into his bedroom, the way silk might move in water. Effortlessly and sensually, their fingers brushing, every look passed between them heightening a sense attachment, hunger, anticipation of the unknown, even though it might never come to pass.
Jonas’s hand slid on to her
shoulder, guiding her to the edge of the bed and she went, enjoying the way he watched her nestling into his pile of sweaters and jackets, his clenched jaw making it clear he wanted to join her, yet refraining.
“Sleep as much as you can, Ginny,” he rasped. “We have a long night tomorrow.”
“Good night.” She yawned and watched his eyes soften. “I mean…day. Good day.”
The last thing she remembered before falling into a deep sleep was Jonas dragging the room’s single chair out into the hallway and taking up his post.
Then he shut the door without touching it at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Upon arriving at P. Lynn the following night, Ginny opened her digital calendar and her mouth dropped open when a reminder popped up.
Ginny’s birthday!
Tomorrow?
Apparently the looming date had been forgotten amongst the dramatic events of the last couple days, but tomorrow she would be twenty-five.
Jonas’s age, though, technically he was a great deal older.
Old enough to be her grandfather, really.
Best not to dwell on it too long.
After all, she had work to do. Their guest had arrived during the day and thankfully, Larissa had performed the intake paperwork and consulted with the family about their wishes. Now, while Ginny performed the chemical wash on Kristof, a hardware store owner with a mermaid tattoo in the center of his chest, Jonas sat nearby in the morgue reading a tattered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
Was he reading, though?
Every time she looked over, he seemed to be watching her above the black and beige book jacket. There hadn’t been many page-turning sounds, either. Her cheeks warmed when she caught him again, before his eyes zipped back to the text. The entire back half of her body was alive right now, tingling and sparking under his regard. Her focus was in ninety places at once, when it needed to be on Kristof.
Focus.
Morticians were often viewed as cold, clinical. Creepy. But there was an artfulness to the practice most people didn’t know about. Or didn’t want to know about, rather. She’d been taught by her father to make friends with the deceased. To try and understand who they’d been and where they’d come from. Now that she’d performed the chemical rinse and broken the rigor mortis through a careful massaging of the body, it was time to set her guest’s features, since the casket would be open at his wake.
Humming to herself, Ginny leaned over and consulted the family-provided picture sitting on her instrument table. In it, Kristof had one arm propped on the bow of a boat, his other hand stuffed into a rain slicker. A deluge fell around him unacknowledged. Kristof had been a stoic man, it seemed. There weren’t many smile or laugh lines around his face and eyes, so it wouldn’t do to form his lips into a subtle yet peaceful smile, as she often did. No, they would be sending off a hard-nosed fisherman and furthermore, that would be what Kristof would want those left behind to see. The real him.
Ginny was only beginning to lose herself in the setting of his features when Larissa appeared in the doorway of the morgue, holding a martini glass. “Oh, you’re here. Good. I wasn’t sure if I’d be running this place alone now.”
As inconspicuously as possible, Ginny glanced over her shoulder to see Jonas was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t even heard him move. Turning back to Larissa with genuine contriteness, Ginny stripped off her gloves and laid them down beside Kristof’s head. “I’m sorry about last night. I hope there wasn’t much extra work.”
“No. No, I left it all for you.” She pressed a thumb to the center of her forehead. “I can just about manage my own shifts without taking on yours, too. Who is this friend you were with since last night?”
“Someone from my dress making club,” Ginny said, too quickly and too unconvincingly. Just don’t add any unnecessary information. It’s a classic tell when someone is lying. “She’s a brunette. Bangs. She has bangs…and she loves an A-line.”
Larissa sipped her martini. “Hmm.”
Ginny traced a circle on the metal table with her finger. “The thing is, I might be spending more time with her. We’re working on a project together…for the silent dress auction that’s coming up. Just in case you’re wondering where I am.”
Her stepmother gestured to Kristof with her martini glass. “I suppose I’m going to handle hosting duties for the wake?”
“Yes. If you could just this once. I’ll call the church and book the driver. As soon as I’m finished here, I’m going to send the prayer cards to the printers.”
“Flowers?”
“Arriving tomorrow morning, first thing.”
“Hmm.” She drained her glass. “Then I best get off to bed. I’ve got another depressing day ahead, don’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny murmured. “There’s some happiness to be found in everyone coming together and sharing memories, too, isn’t there? Ensuring those moments don’t die with their loved ones. Reliving times out loud doesn’t have to be encouraged, it’s just a human reaction. It’s beautiful in a way.”
Not a single family member remained on her father’s side. Without her mother’s side to bolster his funeral guest list, there’s been a very sparse turnout. Larissa had family in Florida, but she’d never brought them for a visit, rarely spoke of them and they weren’t in attendance.
Oddly enough, it had turned out to be her father’s barber who saved the day. Sitting to Ginny’s left in the front row, he’d listened to her recount memories of her father, even adding some of his own. Until the day of his funeral, Ginny didn’t know her father used to read celebrity epitaphs aloud in the barber shop and buy coffee for whoever guessed their identities correctly.
It was entirely morbid, exactly like him and the story made her feel peaceful when she didn’t think anything could.
Ginny realized with a jolt that, while she’d been deep in thought, Larissa had paused at the door. “Did you say something?”
She shook her head. “It was nothing. Sleep well.”
“Oh!” Her stepmother jerked her chin toward the lobby. “I forgot to mention that Gordon is here to see you.”
The overhead lights flickered.
She swallowed. “Oh. Could you let him know I’ll be right out?”
Larissa rolled her eyes and vanished from view, leaving the smell of Dior perfume in her wake. Ginny turned and looked for Jonas, expecting him to return now that Larissa was gone, but his chair remained empty.
After lifting the rubber apron over her head, Ginny washed her hands and meandered out to the lobby, which was empty except for a pacing Gordon.
“Hi, Gordon.” Ginny stopped about ten feet away, lacing her fingers together at her lap. “Larissa said you wanted to see me?”
He scratched behind his ear. “Yes, but could we work up to the reason?”
“Sure.” She breathed a laugh. “Lovely fall weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“It is. I finally broke out the winter sweaters.” He gestured to the ribbed, woolen top he wore. “Might have been a mistake, because I’m definitely sweating and perspiration definitely doesn’t mix well with wool…odor wise.” Finally, he ceased his pacing. “Why am I telling you this?”
“No judgments here. I smell a little like embalming fluid.”
A dreamy smile broke across Gordon’s face. “You’re so kind. Hardly anyone is kind anymore.” He tugged on the neck of his sweater. “And I think you smell amazing.”
Once again, the lights flickered, dimming the room, before brightening it to the extreme and leaving it like a giant, glowing x-ray machine.
Ginny laughed nervously.
“Is there something wrong with the wiring?” Gordon turned in an observant circle. “I have an uncle that could take a look.”
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”
As a matter of fact, she was getting semi-annoyed at the gall it took on Jonas’s part to tamper with her electricity in what she was fast beginning to suspect translated to a
fit of jealousy.
If he wanted Ginny so badly, he had a funny way of showing it, considering he planned on absconding with her memories of him and moving on, as soon as she was free of danger. Once she no longer knew Jonas, she might choose to date and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he would do about it. Were these light flickering antics a classic example of not wanting someone, but not wanting anyone else to have them, either?
Maybe men were the same, human or vampire.
Ginny crossed her arms and glared at a trembling sconce.
Annoyed or not, maybe it was best to get Gordon out of harm’s way.
“Gordon, I’m so glad you stopped by, but I’m in the middle of an embalmment—”
“Your birthday is tomorrow,” he blurted, drawing her up short. “I…this is so embarrassing, but you have a Facebook profile and you never post there. Or anything.” He let out a rush of breath. “But it does have a blurry picture of you and your date of birth, so that’s how I knew. I didn’t hire an investigator or…anything like that.”
“Of course not.”
“I’m just explaining how I knew.” He muttered for a moment under his breath about sounding like a psychopath. “Long story short. I came to see if, um…do you have plans for your birthday?”
The front door of P. Lynn flew open, allowing in a mighty gust of wind carrying leaves, abandoned Metrocards and moisture from God knew where. Ginny lunged out of the line of fire, taking Gordon with her. “Wow,” she called over the noise. “The weather really took a turn. You should get home before it gets worse.”
“Yeah,” Gordon hedged. “About your birthday—”
The door slammed hard and one by one, the light sockets started to explode in the lobby, pop pop pop.
“Gordon, you need to go,” she urged, hustling him toward the door.
“No way, Ginny,” he sputtered. “I-I can’t leave you here. It’s unsafe.”
P. Lynn’s front door opened a final time and Gordon’s body moved backward, seemingly on its own—though, Ginny knew different—and in seconds, he was on the stoop of the funeral home, the door cracking shut on his stunned expression.
