“You bit me.” He sounded almost bemused when he said it.
She didn’t even bother opening her eyes. “Mmm-hmm. Is that a problem?”
There was a beat of silence. “No, just surprising.”
Her grin widened. “I thought it might make you more comfortable not to be the only one doing the biting today. I don’t have the fangish accessories, but…”
She felt his chest shake with a low laugh. “Accessories, huh?”
“Yep.” Prying one eye open, she looked at him. “Feel better now?”
“I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t ever want you to think I’d use my abilities to hurt you or take advantage of you.”
Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, she shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t. We wouldn’t be knocking boots if I thought you’d do something like that. I’m not really in to being anyone’s victim.”
Especially not Asher’s, but she kept that to herself. Now wasn’t the time to bring up her issues—now was the time to focus on Luca. She tried to drag in a deep breath, but his weight was starting to cut off her oxygen supply. She wasn’t a small woman, but he was a very large man. A heavy one, at that.
“No victim mentality, huh?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I like that about you.”
“Me, too.” She wiggled a bit. “I can’t breathe, Cavalli. Do you mind?”
Luca chuckled as he rolled off of her. He never knew what was going to come out of her mouth. He liked that he couldn’t quite predict her. And he liked far more than he would admit that she’d confessed she might have some feelings for him. She’d found the idea of him staying with her appealing, even if it had only been brought up in jest. He wasn’t sure what it meant for him, for them…maybe nothing. He’d never thought to pursue anything serious with her, but then, neither had she. Clearly, she still didn’t or she wouldn’t have avoided him for days, worrying about getting too close. Hell, she was right. It would be foolish to go down that road, was foolish to even consider doing so. And what in gods’ name was he doing letting thoughts like this run wild in his head? He’d only just figured out he’d gotten over Tess. Jumping from there into getting too close to another woman would be moronic.
He grunted, folding his arms behind his head. “What are the chances that the coffee is still worth drinking?”
“Excellent question, Agent Cavalli. Let’s investigate.” She offered him a sassy smile, picked hers up and sipped it. “It’s not tragic. A little too cool to be perfect, but not bad.”
He accepted his mug when she handed it over. “Want some breakfast?”
Something surprised and pleased filtered through her expression. She bit her lower lip and widened her eyes. “You’re cooking for me?”
“No one ever cooks for you?” He ran his knuckle down the side of her arm, savoring the satin of her skin.
“When you’re a chef?” She gave him an arch look. “Most people wouldn’t dare, afraid I’ll pass judgment on their efforts.”
“And would you?”
Leaning over until her lips were a hairsbreadth from his, she grinned. “If it tastes bad, yes. Wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, holding her in place for a kiss. She opened for him, soft and willing, her tongue twining with his. Her taste was the bittersweetness of coffee mixed with pure female. His heart bumped against his ribs, and lust wound its way through his body. There was no way he should be getting hard again this fast, but his cock began to stir to life anyway. He released her, nipping at her lower lip. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
She offered him a siren’s smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Breakfast?” He arched an eyebrow. “Or would you rather go out to eat?”
He felt her grow still beside him, and she took a cautious sip of her coffee before speaking. “You mean, like a date?”
“If that’s how we want to look at it. Otherwise, it’s just two friends sharing a meal.” He rolled his eyes at her pointed glance. “Friends with benefits sharing a meal.”
She worried her lower lip with her teeth, a line appearing between her eyebrows. “I think it would feel too date-like, which puts me back in the same place I was yesterday, where what we are and what we’re doing gets all muddled in my head. Let’s just eat in. It’s less complicated.”
“I think you’re overcomplicating it, but I hope you like Italian breakfast skewers because that’s what I have ingredients to make.”
“Sounds good.” She waved her mug expansively. “It’ll be a novelty to have you wait upon me.”
He noted that she’d avoided his comment about overcomplicating things, but since they’d taken some shaky steps into complication, he was glad she didn’t argue with him. Finding an even keel again after days of tense avoidance was a good idea. “Wait upon? You’re not going to come downstairs and keep me company? I always do that for you.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Does keeping you company involve helping you cook?”
“No.” He finished off his coffee and slipped out of bed, proffering a hand to help her stand. She scooted over to his side and let him pull her up. He brushed his mouth over hers and her lush body softened against his, her tongue flicking out to sweep along his lower lip. Letting his hand trail down her curls to her back, he broke the kiss. She pressed her cheek to his chest, and they stood there for the span of a few heartbeats. He closed his eyes and just…relaxed. These quiet moments where he focused solely on her were like nothing else in his life. Easy. It was easy. In a world of shadows and lies and intrigue and magic, anything easy bordered on miraculous.
After stepping back, he took her hand and led her out of the room. She squeezed his fingers and released him before reaching the staircase. “Do you have to go anywhere today?”
“Not immediately,” he replied. Normally, he’d leave it at that, but he’d opened discussions about his work the other day, so he continued. “I’m waiting for an arrest warrant to come in, but otherwise I’m not needed in the office.”
“You confirmed that vampire killed his Normal kid?” She grimaced when he glanced back. “Poor baby.”
“Among other assorted crimes.” His chin dipped in a nod. “I have it sewn up as tightly as possible. Even with a slick defense attorney, I think he’s going to do time. Exactly how much will depend on the judge and jury.”
“It doesn’t bother you when guilty people go free?” She slipped her fingers into his when they reached the bottom of the stairs. They walked toward the kitchen at the back of the house.
“It does, but if I let myself dwell on the stuff I can’t change, I’d burn out inside of a year.” He shrugged. “I like what I do.”
Most days, anyway. The last week would be an exception. He liked figuring out how and why criminals had committed their offenses, liked giving victims’ families some peace, but this case wasn’t going to give him even a micron of satisfaction. The victim’s family and the criminals were one in the same.
Erin squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the here and now. “You’re good at what you do. Jack says you’re legendary in Magickal law enforcement circles.”
“Your cousin exaggerates.” Heat suffused his face, which was more disconcerting than the flattery. He dropped her hand to stride over to the sink.
“No. He doesn’t.” Her words were soft, but he heard them anyway. “And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”
That comment, he pretended not to hear. “Considering what we were just doing, hand washing is definitely in order before handling food.”
“I’m handling food? I thought you were cooking breakfast for me.” She widened her eyes at him, but followed him to the sink to clean up.
“Let’s see…breakfast skewers.” He went to the refrigerator to rummage through the contents of the shelves. Cold air poured across his skin. Technology certainly had come a long way since he was a child, when they’d had a unit mounted atop an icebox, and that had been cutting edge for the time—h
is mother had had a slight fetish for making certain they had all the domestic gadgets a kitchen could hold. He grabbed the Italian sweet sausage, pancetta and pineapple he needed, then kicked the door shut behind him.
Erin had perched on one of the stools at the end of his kitchen island, and he paused to appreciate the sight of her nipples peeking over the edge of the counter. The memory of having her bent over the island the night before sent heat washing through him. Gods, the sex with her was exceptional. And he’d had enough sex over the decades to know the difference between merely good and truly exceptional. He grinned as he dumped his ingredients on the cutting board.
“When do you have to go in today? Three?” He grabbed a red pepper from the sideboard, a knife from the cutting block and got to work.
She nodded while she leaned in to snag a slice of the pepper and pop it in her mouth. “A little before that, actually. We have a catering event.”
“My mother would have smacked your hand for that.” He arched an eyebrow as she deliberately crunched on her stolen veggie.
Her grin was smug, her eyes twinkling with the glee of someone who’d gotten away with something. “I would too, if anyone did it to me.”
“I’ll remember that.” He wagged the knife at her, and she laughed, the sound rich and lovely. “There are croissants in the pantry that will go well with this. And more coffee, naturally.”
“Naturally.” She slipped off the stool and went to open the louvered doors that separated the small room from the kitchen. Her voice floated out. “Wow, you’re a fan of these. If I had this big a supply, I’d be the size of a house.”
He snorted. “That’s only for the week. I buy them at an Italian bakery over on Rainier Avenue, so they’re properly called a cornetto.”
“Borracchini’s. I like that place.” She reappeared with a croissant in each hand. “Where would I find plates to put these on?”
“In the cupboard to the right of the sink.”
“Seriously, all that was only for the week?” Her sigh held a large dose of melodrama. “Vampiric metabolisms must rock.”
“Poor little Normal.” He tsked and shook his head sadly.
Her expression sobered a bit and she studied him. Wariness pinged in the back of Luca’s mind. When a woman gave him that kind of assessing look, it rarely resulted in a discussion he wanted to have. The problem with Erin was any number of unpleasant topics might come up. He sighed. Best to let her get it out of her system. He could distract her, but it would just be putting off the inevitable.
“You have a question.” It was a statement, and he knew she recognized that because she scowled at him.
“You said…your problems with Normal women and how they react to your vampiric nature began before you knew Tess. So which poor little Normal started it all?”
Ah, fuck. He tensed as pain scraped at old wounds he’d thought long-healed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about the child murder case? I think it would be a more comfortable conversation for me.”
“Sometimes uncomfortable conversations are the most cleansing.” She brought the croissants over to the island. “Then you don’t mess up your sex life because you haven’t dealt with the uncomfortable, emotional stuff.”
“How do you know it’s emotional stuff?” He kept his gaze pinned to the cutting board and sliced the pancetta as if it were the most important thing he’d ever done.
She huffed out a breath. “You aren’t the kind of man who pours his feelings all over anyone. I doubt you’ve ever even talked to anyone about what happened the night Tess was Changed. I don’t mean a debriefing after the case closed, I mean about how you felt.”
“No, you’re right. I haven’t.” It took work to keep his voice even. She knew how to cut to the quick. He sensed her drawing closer, but didn’t look up, just moved on to slicing the sausage.
“So, it follows that this other human woman and whatever happened with her is also something you’ve never talked about.” She made an annoyed noise. “What is it with men and needing to hold it all in, keep it all together, never let anything out, and then wonder why they’re festering balls of stress with ulcers?”
“Vampires don’t get ulcers.” Okay, so perhaps he was delaying the inevitable. He could refuse to answer her questions, tell her to mind her own business, insist he could deal with it on his own. Something inside him resisted doing so. What if she was right? He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his relationships with Normal women and how they’d failed abysmally. Why would he? No one liked to confess to being a fool. But if he had opened up about it, maybe this case with a Normal woman being abused wouldn’t have hit quite so close to home.
“Well, you would get ulcers if you could. Magickal men or Normal, you’re all the same in the end.” She cupped her palm over his cheek, and he blinked, uncertain how she’d gotten so near without him noticing. His senses usually alerted him to the danger of someone approaching. She dipped forward so her blue eyes could meet his. “So talk to me, Agent Stressball. I want to know why you had the no-biting wig out in bed.”
He swallowed. “What about your worries of us getting too close?”
Her lips compressed for a moment, her struggle of what she wanted plain for him to see. Finally, she sighed. “Let me worry about that. So, who was she? A colleague? A friend? A lover? All of the above?” She stroked a thumb across his cheekbone. “What was her name?”
“Francesca.” The word was out before he’d fully decided if he wanted to speak it. Gods, he hadn’t said her name in many, many decades. “She was a Normal woman who didn’t want me to turn her. It was ugly and awful, and you’re right, it’s not something I talk about. Ever.”
Her gaze was steady, but the muscles around her mouth tightened. “What made it so ugly? Just that she didn’t want to be a vampire?”
Ha. If only it had been that simple, straightforward or painless. “No. I would have been upset that she was as vulnerable as a mortal is, if she had even been able to accept what I am.” He sighed. “Part of it was the beliefs of that era, so it wasn’t just her. This was a long time ago. When I was a very young man.”
“How long ago was that?” A note of teasing interjected into her voice, but he could sense how forced it was.
He let a smile flit on and off his face. “I was born the day the Titanic sank. It’s been a while.”
“Okay, then.” She sidled a little closer to him, ran her palm down his back.
Somehow having her nearer made it easier to talk. He drew in a breath, let it filter out. “She was my first love, and she was Normal. Much to my family’s horror.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. “You like Normal girls, huh?”
“Apparently.” Though in truth, he’d only had anything more than a short-term fling with just three of them. Francesca, Tess and Erin. Two out of three had ripped his heart out and stomped on it. “I don’t have much relationship luck with them, though, so you should keep that in mind.”
This time she poked his ribs. “We’re not going to get that close, remember? There won’t be a relationship.”
“We have a relationship, just of a different kind. Friendship, remember? You care about me, or you wouldn’t have asked about my past.” He wasn’t the type—nor was she, for that matter—to sleep with someone for a year and feel nothing at all. They’d been together too often, their craving for each other was too deep. It was a realization that should have scared the shit out of him, but he was beyond pretending he could simply walk away. He would have to, someday. They couldn’t stay in a non-relationship forever, and they couldn’t have a real relationship, so that left them…here. In nowhere land.
She sighed, looked uncomfortable. “You’re right. I care. Now tell the rest of the story.”
He finished cutting the neglected sausage and then worked on the pineapple. “I wanted to marry her. Francesca. We were in love, lovers, and I thought we’d spend the next five hundred years together.” He tried to smile, but thought it migh
t have resembled a wince. “I went to the local Conclave leaders—which included my father—and asked them for permission to tell her the truth, to marry her. Father had doubts, but I convinced all of them to let me try. I was so sure.”
Only things hadn’t gone according to plan when he’d actually told her the truth about who he was—what he was. “She said I was a demon sent to tempt her, make her a pawn of Satan. Slapped me a couple of times and screamed a few Biblical quotes at me, exhorting me to cast out the devil.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Erin’s hand curled around his elbow, squeezing in sympathy. “Not really the reaction a guy wants to his marriage proposal.”
“No.” He snorted on a laugh. “Looking back, I should have known. Many people in Italy then—Normal and Magickal—were devoutly Catholic. On a level most people can’t imagine today, even those who consider themselves devoutly Catholic. I let my love blind me to how her spiritual beliefs would influence her.”
He felt her gaze searching his face, though he couldn’t guess what she was looking for. “You couldn’t know that she’d be unable to see past her religion.”
He hunched a shoulder. “I…had to tell my father what had happened because my abilities weren’t strong enough yet to mesmerize her and make her forget.”
“He did it for you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Intended to do it for me—he didn’t get the chance. She caught scarlet fever and died.” But not before he went to her again, held her hand while she lay on her deathbed and begged her to let him turn her, to take a chance on their love. His stomach churned at the memories, the shame. He’d been such a fool. She’d spurned him as a devil-worshipper, spitting in his face. “It’s rare for anyone except children to get the disease, but…”
It hadn’t mattered that she should have been immune by her age. Death had taken her within a few days.
He set aside the knife and braced his hands on the counter, letting his head bow. “I didn’t go to her funeral. She’d said enough to her family before she passed that it was best for me to keep my distance. The Conclave cleaned up my mess as best they could, but…mesmerizing a lot of people into forgetting what they know gets complicated. Memories are tricky, slippery things.” He cleared his throat. “After that, my father decided it was time for the family to relocate. To avoid questions if the mesmerization failed. We came to America.”
Edge of Night Page 12
