Lassiter’s mouth hung open and Eva reached up to close it with a smile. “This morning, when I woke up, I knew in my gut someone needed me here. I’m so glad it was you, Lassiter. What’s your twin’s name?”
Twin? There were two of them? Ohhhhh, this should be something, Emerson thought. Two over the top, uber pains in the asses.
Lassiter still had that hit by a freight train look on his face. “He’s my twin?”
“Yes, dear, and your twin needs saving. That means I have some chicken soup to make.”
Holy shit! Eva’s infamous chicken soup was the key to this? A drink to help you join vamp-kind… Emerson knew the story well of Eva’s chicken soup. She’d claimed to read prophecies in it. But wait. Hadn’t she told Martine and Derrick that it was all just bunk? “I don’t understand,” Emerson interrupted. “You told Martine and Derrick that the chicken soup theory was all just made up to devise a way to get them together. The same with Max and JC.”
Eva smiled knowingly. “Well, dear, to a degree it is made up. I admit to tampering with the chicken soup legacy for my own purposes, a bit of manipulation on my part for the good of my grandsons if you will. But this time the chicken soup is what will turn Lassiter’s brother into a fine young man like himself.”
Lassiter looked down at Eva, his eyes were dark and unreadable. “Do you know how long I’ve looked? How many Adams there are in the world?”
Emerson snorted. “Yeah, and do you know how much wildlife he’s devastated in his quest?”
“Now, Emerson, I think you’d do the same in Lassiter’s position. Let’s not cast stones, shall we?” Eva said with reproach.
Lassiter stuck his tongue out at Emerson.
“I do know that this journey has been hard for you, Lassiter, and your brother, but you have lifetimes to make up for it. After all, you’re half vampire. Your immortality will grant you some justification. Now, let’s make soup!”
“Soup,” Lassiter murmured.
“Yeah, pale boy, soup,” Emerson chuckled.
Chapter Eleven
Emerson smiled while watching Lassiter and his twin, Drake, plant trees.
What a difference two months could make.
Eva had made the chicken soup that restored Drake to his human form and he was, indeed, Lassiter’s double. They were identical in almost every way.
Except the way that made Emerson’s loins scream and her knees weak.
Only Lassiter did that to her.
Drake didn’t do that for her. He had an easier personality than Lassiter, though, in her estimation, he should be the one who was bitter. He’d adjusted well to life on the Adams’ farm and strove to adjust to the conformities legs and arms brought with it.
Lassiter had a much lighter attitude nowadays. He smiled more often and he and Emerson had spent a great deal of time talking again.
Like they’d once done.
Sometimes they laughed. Sometimes they sat quietly, but no matter what they did, they were never far from one another.
Emerson knew she was in love with Lassiter. What once had been an idol-like, schoolgirl crush had turned into love. The kind of love a woman feels when she knows it’s the real thing.
She’d learned to temper her impatience and impulsivity with that knowledge. Lassiter was hers and there was no way she’d let him forget it.
Gently, of course…
She could wait until he was ready to admit he felt the same. And he would.
All in good time.
Drake’s transformation, the lift of the spell that had kept him locked in the body of a bird, had happened with little fanfare. Oddly, Emerson thought it would be much bigger than it’d turned out to be. But she would never forget the gratitude on Lassiter’s face. She would never forget the wonder of seeing Lassiter finally meet his brother.
She’d left them alone, quietly slipping out to allow them the privacy they needed to get to know one another man to man. Brother to brother.
Lassiter came to find her the next day, and since then the dynamic of their relationship had changed drastically.
Planting trees was all in an effort to not only reimburse the Adams, but to show Emerson that Lassiter’s intentions had never been to hurt anyone or anything in his quest.
The Adamses had welcomed him with their usual acceptance, with open arms and questions galore. Lassiter, usually a loner, had opened up in time, eventually allowing himself to come to terms with his unusual heritage and accept the warmth only the Adams family knew how to offer.
He’d signed the land back over to Max one morning over scrambled eggs, and Max had shown his gratitude by giving Lassiter twelve acres to do with as he pleased.
Lassiter planned to build a home there. A home that had a path back to his family right at his doorstep.
The Adams family.
Indeed, the Adamses had come full circle, Emerson thought.
“Hey, Princess,” Lassiter called, coming up behind her and scooping her up, rousing her from her thoughts.
Emerson chuckled at the nickname he’d kept from her dog days. “You’re all dirty!” she yelped at him. “Cut it out and put me down, vampire.”
“Then I think some washing up is required, huh? What say we go do that?” Lassiter teased in her ear.
“You know, you’re insatiable. Didn’t we just nail each other this morning? Honestly, Lassiter, we have to spend some time out of the bedroom or we’ll start producing, like Hector’s bunnies.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d mind a bunny or two if they looked like you,” he said against her ear, holding her closer.
Emerson’s heart lurched and she knew what Lassiter was saying in as few words as possible. It wouldn’t be long before Lassiter made the final leap.
She’d hold the hurdle steady when he finally jumped over it.
“Oh, really. Tell me, what do you suppose we’d procreate? Vampires? Werewolves? Werevamps, Vampwolves?” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to hurry her off to his trailer.
Looking down at her, his smile was warm, filled with a promise he didn’t know how to express. “I dunno, Princess, but I’d like to find out.”
Emerson snuggled against his hard body.
Yes, Lassiter was saying exactly what she wanted to hear. He was telling her it was time.
Emerson mentally held the hurdle steady.
Because Lassiter had just jumped.
Epilogue
And so ends the saga of a family called Adams. Unique in their diversity, strong in their love of one another, created in the mind of a writer who’s one can shy of a six-pack.
But there are some things that beg to be sewn up. You didn’t think I was the kind of author to leave you out on the ledge without a safety net, did you? That would be cruel… senseless, frustrating as hell, yes?
Ahem.
JC and Max had their baby boy on a fine spring day, crisp and cloudless with Max’s mother, Corrina, acting as midwife. JC could be heard thanking deities for the end of the pregnancy that lasted a fricken’ millennium throughout the Adams household. “Finally,” she’d retorted, “a good hair day is within my realm of possibility.” Max and JC named their son Max junior, though JC lovingly teased that Voldermutt might suit him just fine. As yet, Max junior’s shifter form, if any at all, has not been determined. Only time will tell what he and little Catalina will grow up to be.
However, you can all rest assured, they will be loved in typical Adams family style.
Xavier and Julia are enjoying parenthood. Catalina is the apple of her daddy’s eye and they’ve decided to make their family official. They plan to marry, as soon as Julia can fit into a size seven wedding dress, that is.
Martine and Derrick are with child again, and Martine has come to terms with her unexplained urge to devour Drake. It wasn’t easy and much caviar was needed to help her get over the hump.
Eva and Escobar continue to travel the world together. No one knows for sure when she’ll turn up but whe
n she does, you can take solace in the fact that it won’t be without mystery and mayhem.
Emerson and Lassiter were married two months after the birth of little Max. They said their vows on Adams land and sealed their life together surrounded by the warmth and blessings of the entire Adams pack.
Hector brought his “date” to the wedding.
His date Pinky.
A surprise to everyone, for sure.
It turned out, Pinky had a secret.
Pinky shifts too.
Pinky shifted into the form of a lovely young woman with eyes only for Hector. Pink eyes, but eyes, googley and filled with devotion, nonetheless. Hector lovingly refers to her as his “Playboy Bunny.” Sometimes even the most unlikely of suspects has a match made in heaven, just for him.
Drake, after hearing about the debacle Columbia County made of the Adams taxes, realized he had a passion for the law and justice at its finest. He is attending law school in New York City and plans to begin his own firm, with the aid of his brother, upon graduation.
A were-legal, if you will…
Which brings me to the end of this story, but the beginning of a whole new adventure.
You didn’t think I’d leave a hottie like Drake out there without a story, did you? Without someone to teach him the ways of a man and woman. The ways that have nothing to do with feathers and everything to do with passion…
Meet Drake when he takes on the task of the paranormal defending the paranormal, and take the journey of his carnal discoveries right along with him.
A half werewolf, half vampire virgin, folks… Does it get any crazier than that?
The End
Dakota Cassidy
Dakota is tired. Very tired. M, the esteemed owner of Changeling Press, makes her write a lot. A whole lot. So much that Dakota can’t write her own bio. However, she’s working on perfecting her tongue typing. Please e-mail her at [email protected]. She promises to dry the e-mail before she sends it.
Note from M:
Dakota complains a lot, but we don’t care much, cause we love her books. She forgot to mention she has a cool website, too. Check it out. It’s DakotaCassidy.com
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