At the same time, Cody was a vampire and it didn’t seem to be putting a crimp in his relationship with Miranda. Lucy watched as he slid a possessive arm around her sister and pulled her close. He nuzzled her neck and a thought struck.
“You’re not—” she started, but Miranda shook her head.
“Not yet, but I plan on letting Cody turn me when the time is right. We’ve both agreed that we want to be together forever.” She smiled. “He’s going to turn me on our wedding night. Our final vow to each other. I’ll be there for him and he’ll be there for me for the rest of eternity.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. All that really matters is that he loves me and I love him. As long as that’s true, we can work out all the details.”
But it wasn’t as simple for Lucy and Rayne. For one thing, she didn’t even know if he loved her. While Cody and Miranda seemed convinced, he’d never actually said the words and so she couldn’t be sure.
And even if he did feel the same, it wouldn’t be enough to change his mind. He feared himself. His nature. She’d seen the emotion blazing in his eyes the instant before they’d blazed bright red. She had no doubt he would keep running.
Especially if he loved her.
But if she could convince him otherwise…
“Where are you going?” Miranda asked when she scrambled from the bed and handed over Cupid.
Lucy’s gaze collided with her sister’s as she shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops and reached for her car keys. “To fight.”
RAYNE TOUCHED HIS Gram’s apron that hung on a peg inside the barn door for the last time. He fought against the urge to snatch up the worn fabric and tuck it into his small duffel bag. But he couldn’t take the past with him any more than he could change it, and seeing it day after day would just remind him.
He had to let go.
He balled his fingers, snatched up his bag and the signed papers folded in a small envelope, and turned to leave.
That was when he saw Lucy standing in the barn doorway.
His chest tightened and he stiffened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” She arched an eyebrow. “Because you might bite me?”
“That’s exactly why.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m willing to take the risk. Maybe losing a little blood is a small price to pay to keep from losing you.” Her gaze collided with his. “I love you.” Emotion glittered in the blue depths of her eyes and his heart paused. Pure joy poured through him, followed by a rush of fear—because she didn’t know what she was saying.
She didn’t know him.
Not now.
He stiffened. “You loved me,” he corrected. “A long, long time ago. I loved you, too. But it’s different now. I’m different.” He forced himself to turn and put a few steps between them when all he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms. “You want a man who’ll be around the next day and the day after, and that’s not me.” He turned to face her. “I’m not a man at all, Lucy. You know that. You saw that. I can’t give you a real relationship.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a vampire, for Chrissake!” He ran a hand over his face as frustration welled inside him. “One minute I’m about to ambush a small group of terrorists in the mountains of Afghanistan and the next thing I know, I’ve got fangs.” He shook his head. “I’m a killer and there isn’t a thing I can do about it. If you knew—”
“The past doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. All that matters is what you do now. You can learn to control it if you want to. If you love me.” She stared at him a long moment. “You don’t,” she stated after a long, silent moment. “That’s it, isn’t it? I was right in the first place. It was all in my head. You don’t feel anything for me. You never did.”
“Is that what you really think?” His gaze met hers and he knew she was the one who read his thoughts this time. She saw the emotion blazing and her eyes brightened. Her anxiety eased.
“Love is enough,” she told him as she stepped forward. “But you have to give it a chance.” She stopped a few inches away from him and stared up into his eyes. “Give us a chance. We can figure all of this out. Cody and Miranda will help. And the others. We can still have a life together.”
“The military will be looking for me. I’m AWOL.”
“We’ll figure something out. Together.”
“But what if I hurt you?” he said, voicing the one thought that tormented him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“You were starving tonight and you didn’t so much as scratch me,” she pointed out. “And the only way you could really hurt me is by walking away again.” Her hand touched his arm and her gaze met his. “I want to be with you, Rayne. From this day forward. For the rest of our lives.” When he started to speak, she touched a finger to his lips. “For eternity.”
The implication of her words hit him and worry rushed through him. But then she pressed her lips to his and the feeling gave way to an incredible warmth that sank into his bones and erased every doubt. She was right. Love, this love, was the only thing that really mattered. They could figure out the rest.
They would.
Right here in Skull Creek. Together.
“I love you,” he spoke the words he should have said so long ago. He slid his arms around her and pulled close.
Epilogue
“ARE YOU SURE you want to do this?” Rayne asked the next night as they stood at the entrance to the Iron Horseshoe.
Lucy glanced at the white ball of fluff in her arms and nodded. “I don’t have time for a dog right now. That’s why he acts out so much.”
“That or he really is possessed by the devil.”
Cupid’s growl punctuated the statement and Rayne smiled. “I don’t think he likes me.”
Lucy grinned. “That’s a good thing.” Her gaze met his. “I was holding on to him for the wrong reasons. I was scared that I would never find someone on my own and he was my insurance policy. But it’s time I gave him to someone who can really use him.”
She found Becky stacking glasses behind the bar. “What are you doing?” she asked when Lucy handed over Cupid.
“Giving you an edge.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I don’t need him anymore.” Her gaze caught and held Rayne’s and she saw the love she felt for him mirrored in his aqua-blue eyes. “I already found what I’m looking for.”
And she didn’t intend to let him go.
Never, ever again.
I WISH HE MIGHT…
Samantha Hunter
For my readers.
1
NINA LARSON TRIED TO ignore the slick drip of mud trickling slowly down the middle of her back and pointed a stern finger at the young photographer standing in the corner of the elevator, grinning at her. When he playfully threatened to capture a shot of her, she glared.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned.
Sensing imminent harm, he lowered the camera, but couldn’t quite get rid of his smirk.
“Well, if it helps, mud looks really good on you,” he said flirtatiously, letting his gaze drop to her blouse that was also soaked with muddy water, exposing more than she would prefer.
“Hey, eyes up, bucko,” was all she said in response as the doors opened.
She ignored the curious gazes as she walked across the maze of cubicles that made up the reporters’ bullpen of The Scoop. The tabloid was otherwise known as the reporting hell into which she had been relegated after being caught up in a scandal that had cost her being a real reporter at a real newspaper.
Grabbing the door handle of her small office—a cubicle with a ceiling, really—she thanked God for that one small benefit. Upon being hired, she had insisted on her own space, such as it was. She’d taken a pay cut in exchange for this teeny little piece of private real estate, but it was worth it.
She grabbed a raincoat hanging on the ba
ck of the door and threw it down on the chair to protect it from her wet, muddy clothes. Sitting at her computer, she wasted no time banging out the copy for her story, due to the copy desk in an hour. There was no time to shower and change until she submitted it, so she set her timer, bore down and got to work.
Her fingers warmed as she typed at lightning speed, the words flying from her fingers as she told the story of Mabel King. The woman, who lived west of the city of Boston in a rural community, claimed that her pig farm boasted mud with special healing qualities, even the ability to reverse the aging process.
Nina titled it Miracles In The Mud? and typed on, flipping through her notes to grab some good quotes and ignoring the part where Mrs. King had dragged her through several yards of deep, sticky, stinky goop between pigs that weren’t all too fond of the human intrusion. One disliked it enough to knock Nina backward into the disgusting mud bath.
Nina wasn’t feeling any better or any younger for the experience. Still, readers loved a healing mud story, second only to healing properties of hot springs. Some things just never got old. Mabel was thinking about opening a B and B so that she could charge people to roll around in her pig-enhanced mud.
More power to her. In the end, while it was a crock, the modern version of snake oil, it didn’t do any harm, either. Everyone did what they had to do to get by in life.
A quick look at the timer told her she had a little time to edit and she did so quickly, finally hitting Send on the internal message system and heaving a sigh of relief.
There. Another amazing tale for The Scoop put to bed.
Somehow, it didn’t give her the same buzz of satisfaction that writing stories on gang violence or corrupt city politics did. Maybe that was due to the mud drying in the crack of her—
“Nina. Good, you’re back,” her boss Lindsay said, inviting herself into the office. Lindsay did a once-over, taking in the trail of mud that marked a path to the desk, and then got down to business. “Are you making any progress on the genie story?”
Gee, Lindsay, I’d really like to discuss that after I take a shower, eat and, oh, yeah, throw myself off a bridge, Nina thought sourly. Instead, she shook her head, answering calmly, maintaining what professional demeanor she could. It was all she had left, she figured, and she might as well hang on to it.
“I’ve done some background research, but—”
“Not good enough. We have to jump on this. You need to find the women on that blog who met that hunk who made wishes come true. Who knows how long genies stick around? Or if this is some kind of scam? Some guy taking advantage of vulnerable women? Either way, there’s a story here. I want pictures with this guy, and an interview. Exclusive. This could be your cover, Nina. Don’t blow it.”
Lindsay was gone before Nina could respond, out to harass another poor soul about their research into space aliens, dogs that dialed 911 to save their owners or seventy-pound babies.
Nina closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She was a professional, a Newhouse-trained journalist who had worked with some of the best and the brightest in the business. She was a professional who got the job done, no matter what the job was.
This was temporary, she reminded herself for the one millionth time. What mattered was that she was working, staying active in her profession and eventually, things would be better. Right?
Right. That was why none of her freelance work had been accepted recently. No one in the business would be forgetting her name for a long time. They wouldn’t let her forget what had happened, either. After all, her confidential coverage of a whistle-blower’s comments about a company poisoning its employees as it took environmental shortcuts to save money had evaporated when the informant’s identity had somehow appeared in the paper. Adding insult to injury, the offenses of the company in question had been drowned out by the scandal.
The man was harassed to the point where he had to sell his house and leave town. She was fortunate that he couldn’t come after her legally, but she’d been protected by the paper at the time.
Nina had never used his name and didn’t know who included it, or who even knew who her source was, but regardless, it was her fault. He was her informant. It was her job to protect him, and she hadn’t. She had to suffer the consequences for that, and she had.
Unfortunately, so had others. What happened had opened the paper to lawsuits and much negative speculation. Several investigative reporters had been hard-pressed to reassure when their own informants who, upon hearing news of the leak, said they didn’t trust journalists anymore. Her snafu had nearly compromised many important investigations.
Nina had been quietly asked to quit her job by the man whom she had been sleeping with, no less. It didn’t matter that they were madly in love, business was business. Maybe it wasn’t smart getting involved with your editor, but love was love.
Nina had wanted to fight. She was innocent, but she couldn’t prove it. Peter knew that, but still, he’d asked her, for the sake of the paper, to go. He’d assured her it would blow over and everything would be fine, eventually. She’d find other work.
She’d left, as he’d asked, fading into the background and eventually finding a job at The Scoop, the only paper that would take her. She hadn’t counted on fading into the background of Peter’s life—he had never said anything about that. She’d only heard from Peter twice in the six months since, and she tried to understand. She’d left him with a huge mess to cope with, whether she was innocent or not.
Blinking tears away, she found herself staring at The Herald’s Web site; the job posting to fill her spot was still open. She clicked again and saw Peter’s smile fill the screen, her heart aching.
Shutting off the computer, she pushed her chair back and stood up from her desk, dried mud flaking everywhere around her, her jeans hardened and crinkling, scraping against her skin.
“Damn,” she cursed, looking at the ring of dirt around where she stood.
Grabbing her purse, her jacket and the file with GENIE scrawled across it from her desk, she sighed, then walked out, oblivious to the active newsroom milling around her. She would shower, she would eat, and then…then she would try to find whatever yahoo was out there calling himself a genie.
“I HAVE PIZZA. And beer,” Kaelee cajoled, standing in Nina’s doorway holding her offerings.
“I shouldn’t. I have work,” Nina said, completely lacking conviction as the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni made her mouth water.
“It’s eight o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten. Work can wait an hour. By the way, did you go to the spa? Your skin looks fantastic,” Kaelee said, closing the door behind them as they walked into the entryway.
Nina grimaced. She hated to admit it, but after a hot shower to get rid of the mud, her skin did look amazing.
“Thanks. Just a new mud treatment,” she said absently. “Here, put that down and let me grab some plates.”
“What are you up to? Are you heading out on another alien hunt?” Kaelee asked, noticing the stack of books and papers on the sofa.
“Genies.”
“Huh?”
“Genies. You know, the kind that lives in a bottle? Granting wishes, flying on magic carpets and all of that,” Nina informed her friend, distracted by the food. She was starving.
Kaelee’s eyes reflected new levels of astonishment. “Seriously?”
“If I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’.”
“Wow, that is too cool!”
Nina blinked as she offered Kaelee a plate piled with three slices and grabbed a beer from the six-pack.
“Excuse me?”
Kaelee shrugged and fell into step behind Nina, carrying her own plate.
“Well, compared to reading through technical patent documents all day to prepare for the trial I have coming up, tracking down genies sounds like a blast.”
Nina was forced to agree. Though Kaelee was a brilliant lawyer, some of the details of the cases she handled were mind-numbingly dull.
Ni
na took a bite of her pizza and closed her eyes in bliss, enjoying the food and the company for a few minutes before speaking again.
“Well, though there obviously is no such thing as real genies, it is kind of cool. The history is real enough, starting back in King David’s time, though genies are said to have existed from the beginning of time, made from the primordial fire. Stories about them can be traced through the centuries in religion and myths up to the current day.”
“Don’t forget I Dream of Jeannie,” Kaelee reminded.
“Oh, I loved that show when I was a kid. I still watch the reruns.”
“Me, too.”
“It’s true, genies are a huge presence in the popular mindset. I Dream of Jeannie, as well as Disney’s Aladdin, were Americanized version of the jinn, or jinni, which is where we got the word genie from,” Nina explained between bites, taking Kaelee’s quiet as an invitation to continue. “Myths say jinn can take human form, and there are different kinds, evil or benevolent, angels or demons. There are people who believe jinn really exist in the same way people believe angels or demons exist. People in other countries believe they interact with them on a daily basis, that the jinn live lives much like we do. I even read one thing that mentioned one of the first jinn being a vampire, which is something you don’t hear much of in vampire fiction.”
Kaelee set down her plate, nodding. “Guardian angels, boogeymen, vampires, all of that. It’s a powerful idea, spirits either watching over us or creating all the havoc in our lives. Not to mention immortality.”
“Except that the jinn have a history mired in slavery, as well. They were Solomon’s slaves, building his temple, and they are usually enslaved by a master whom they serve, but also resent. When they grant wishes, the wishes can often be deceitful, as the jinn will interpret things to suit themselves, using literal meanings against the wisher, or that kind of thing.”
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume IV Page 9
