“This is really impressive. I bet you could feed all of us for two months with this much food.”
“I was hoping to have enough for six.”
“You don’t think we’ll be here that long, do you?” Zoey asked.
“I sure hope not. I don’t want to be here at all. But it’s possible. Hunters never give up.”
That was the consensus. They never gave up, and they were after her. She could strike out on her own, or stay here until Andre deemed it safe and helped her with a new identity. That could take months. Still, given those two choices, Kaštel was preferable, as long as she could avoid getting too close to Andre.
“Are you hungry?” Zoey asked. “I came to get myself dinner. Everyone else ate already.”
“Now that you mention it, I am.”
Zoey noticed Lena’s icepack. “You don’t look like you’re in any shape to cook, but I can follow instructions well.”
“That’s a deal.”
Andre and Kos had just finished running a long extension cord from the generator into the kitchen. It astonished her to see Kos lift and shift the fridge back against the wall like he was moving an empty cardboard box. The meaning of super strength sunk in.
“We’re going to check on Pedro,” Andre said. “Will you two be all right?”
“Yes, Zoey’s going to cook us dinner.”
Andre cast Zoey an inquiring look, and she nodded in reply, touched he thought she might need his protection. But Lena was no longer giving Zoey the cold shoulder. She could handle being alone with the woman.
At Lena’s suggestion, they decided on grilled cheese sandwiches.
“I promise this Gruyere is to die for.” Lena held up a wedge of cheese.
“I’d settle for good enough,” Zoey replied. “Suddenly, I prefer my cheese with lower stakes.” She sliced thick slices from what might be the last loaf of bread in the house.
“Yeah, I imagine a whole new world and an ancient war could come as a shock.”
Lena was pretty nonchalant about the whole vampires and Hunters thing. “How long have you worked here?” Zoey asked, thinking it was a harmless question.
Apparently not. Lena’s glum pout revealed that she’d steered them into dangerous territory. Lena held a spatula in her good hand with a death grip.
“Hey, I’m sorry if you don’t want to talk about it.”
Lena relaxed her grip, and got control of herself slowly. Then she plopped onto a kitchen stool.
Finally, she lifted her face. “It’s okay. I’ve been here a few years, but it wasn’t a good situation for me. I guess I had unreasonable expectations…”
Whatever that meant sounded personal, and it became obvious that Lena was lost in thought. Zoey kept quiet and finished grilling the sandwiches. When they were done she said, “Hey, Lena, I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. What do you have down here?”
“Not much. There’s a wine rack in the parlor upstairs, and we have a wet bar in the householder’s living room. Down here I just have some sherry and brandy for cooking.”
“Brandy, huh? Like all the heroines in Victorian novels drink to recover their nerves?”
“Exactly.” Lena laughed. “Sounds perfect for the occasion. But don’t tell Kos. He’s worried I have a concussion.” She hopped off the stool and went to a cabinet.
“Is it just for cooking or is it the good stuff?”
“I only cook with the good stuff,” Lena replied in a darn good Julia Childs impersonation.
She sat next to Lena at the counter. After only a few sips of brandy, she felt it. Phew. Strong stuff—no wonder they used it “medicinally.” Her face flushed and she was almost happy to be sitting in a vampire’s kitchen under lockdown eating grilled cheese with a woman who hated her, or at least had hated her yesterday.
With her tongue loosened by her mini-euphoria, she asked, “Are you in love with Andre?”
Lena snorted and brandy actually came out of her nose. “Oww! That burns!”
A fit of laughter seized Zoey and then Lena started too. They both had tears streaming down their faces by the time their giggles finally waned.
“No, I’m not in love with him,” Lena said, reminding Zoey of what had set off their laughter. “He wasn’t very nice to me.”
“He was mean?”
“Cruelly polite.”
“Is that like killing someone with kindness?”
“Sort of. But it’s more of a vampire thing. Imagine being sweet talked, fed from, and curtly dismissed every week or so for years. You know about the feeding, right? How sexy it is?”
“Yeah, I know.” Zoey’s memories of watching Andre feed made her voice sound husky.
“Well, a lot of vampires choose women for their household to be both their lovers and their blood supply. It’s a natural combination and it’s what I expected.”
“Oh.” Zoey tried to take in all the new information. It was a whole new world, with rules and customs she didn’t understand.
“But Andre doesn’t ‘fuck where he eats’—those are his words, by the way, not mine.” Then Lena gave Zoey a knowing look. “Not usually, anyway.”
“Oh, he’s not eating me.” Then she blushed and shook her head. Damn brandy. “You know what I mean. He hasn’t bitten me.”
“Why not? Are you nervous? I promise you’d like it.”
“No, it’s not that. He’s worried about some kind of blood bond.”
Lena’s blue eyes grew wider. “He thinks he’d bond with you? Zoey, you should do it, let him turn you! How wonderful for you!” Lena surprised her with an awkward hug, banging the ice pack into her head.
“Lena, that’s not it. He doesn’t want to bond with me.” She drained her glass. “And I don’t really want to be a vampire anyway, so I’m fine with that.” Why did she sound so defensive? She had her own four-year-old promise never to get close to anyone.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“Don’t apologize. There’s a lot I don’t understand about this weird vampire world, but it sounds like your assumptions were perfectly logical.”
Lena rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and smiled weakly. “Thanks for saying so, but I probably should have kept my mouth shut.”
Zoey patted her arm. “Brandy’s making me sleepy. Want to walk upstairs together?”
“Good idea. I’m tired too. But, Zoey, I’m glad we had a chance to hang out.”
“Me too.”
As they stood, Zoey saw Lena touch the cover of a book on the counter, then tuck it under her injured arm. Zoey led them upstairs with her flashlight. Kos must have heard them on the stairs, because he was waiting for Lena outside Pedro’s room.
“Everything okay?”
“Great,” Zoey replied.
“Yep, great,” said Lena and followed Kos down the hall to his room.
Zoey reached for the knob on her own door, but it swung open to reveal Lucas. She jumped. “Oh, I didn’t know you were in here.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Pushing past him, she said, “Right. I could ask Andre—”
He remained firmly planted in the doorway, his golden eyes large like a lost puppy instead of a fierce wildcat. “No, don’t bother. Get some rest. You look beat.”
She smoothed her hair. “Thanks. You look great too, Lucas.”
He opened his mouth, and she braced herself for a battle of wit. But then he snapped his jaw shut as if he were too tired to bother with a retort.
Pedro called from his room. “Hunter.”
Lucas flinched, even as his body straightened with new purpose. Zoey didn’t envy him. An invitation from someone who’d publically declared his hatred of you hardly counted for a comfortable place to spend the night.
The impatient voice called out again. “I’m not asking, Hunter.”
She raised her eyebrows at Lucas, and he shrugged at her before obeying Pedro’s command.
Closing the door behin
d him, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. For the first time since returning to Kaštel that morning, she was truly alone. She lay down in the cozy yellow room. In this bed, she’d fantasized about Andre three nights ago and watched him drink blood from Susan that morning. It had been a hell of a week, and her life would never return to normal.
When she closed her eyes, Andre’s magnetic smile appeared, just like it had her first night at Kaštel. Suddenly hot, she kicked off the bedspread. Cool air on her legs was a reality check.
She glided her hand up her belly and let it rest between her breasts.
He had put his hand on her heart and offered—or almost offered—her his love. But he’d withdrawn the unwanted offer just as quickly. That was for the best. It spared her any temptation.
Still, what harm was there in closing her eyes again and imagining a life with him?
Chapter 34
IT ASTONISHED ANDRE that the crowded house was so completely silent. He had visited Bel in the workroom already, but his son was a bore when he was focused on chemistry. Tonight he was especially grumpy he would have to wait until dawn for the solar panels to light up and power his graph-o-whatever machine.
It would be nice to have a card partner to distract him, but Kos had decided to watch over that fool girl Lena. Hmm. Considering her pantry, maybe she wasn’t as foolish as he had thought. But she was no Zoey…
With a whole night alone, there would be no distraction from her, sleeping a few doors down. If he concentrated, he could make out which of the breathing patterns was hers. The breaths confirmed she was out cold, and even snoring a little. Charming. Did she know she did that?
A strange, warm feeling encased his heart. He looked down to see if there was some physical explanation other than the one breathing down the hall.
He was filthy, with a spot of blood on his shirt, even. He hated that, as he was generally a fastidious eater. When was the last time he’d had a shower and a change of clothes? It was Wednesday evening when he and Zoey had—right, that was why he had not showered. He could still faintly smell her on his body, like she had marked him as hers. He hated to lose her mark, but it was definitely time to clean up. It would have to be a cold shower, given how his body was reacting to the memory of her.
In the shower, rivulets of cold water stung his skin. It kept his cock heeled, but his mind replayed memories of Zoey throughout the day. Twenty-four hours ago, he had ripped the rug out from underneath her reality and all day long she had coped with curiosity, humor, and not a little jealousy.
God, was there ever a sexier sound than when she growled?
She had been probing with her questions about sunlight. Was she open to turning? He feared asking her. He believed in his bones what he had told her about Mila: the only thing worse than the death of a bonded mate was to turn that mate and have them regret it. He never pressured Mila, and after her death, even during the worst pain, he did not second guess that decision. She would have regretted turning and they would have had an eternity of bitterness to share.
But Zoey was not Mila.
She was strong, and she was not only concerned about herself. She had tried to protect him only hours after learning what he was.
When she had described Pedro’s turning as a beautiful rebirth, it had resonated in his bones. He would keep that image forever, with her to thank. Somehow, it soothed the wound of Mila’s rejection.
Andre turned off the shower and dried himself. His muscles no longer ached with fatigue. He flexed them in the mirror—definitely bigger. He squeezed his bicep. Harder too. Briefly, he smiled at his reflection, feeling fitter than he had in years.
He had guzzled wine all day in addition to the extra blood he had consumed to resist Zoey. But strong as he was, his brain was overloaded like a young vampire’s. Obeying the urge to sit in a dark room, he turned off the lights in his bedroom and lay down.
The thoughts would not stop coming. Images of Zoey flashed inside his head: an embarrassed flush, a finger touching his fang, her perfect ass bent over a box of flashlights. Aroused and fixated, anxious energy started in his groin and spread throughout his body. Flopping from side to side, he understood what humans meant by the expression tossing and turning. His sheets were scratchy and his mattress too hard. He didn’t remember the last time he had actually used his big, empty bed.
It was the emptiness that tipped him over the edge. He pulled on his favorite jeans and a soft flannel shirt before he walked down the hall.
As quietly as possible, he opened the door to Zoey’s room and gently eased himself onto the bed beside her. He did not want to wake her. Maybe she would never know he had been there. But he wanted to be next to her as he tried to calm his mind. It worked. He could look at her and listen to her breathe. With Zoey next to him in the flesh, he stopped searching for her in his mind and found peace.
Zoey’s dream had a blurry-edged quality. Time sped up and slowed down in the dreamy way. She was on the lawn behind Kaštel Estate. Tables were set up with white cloths, twinkling lights hung from the fruit trees, and paper lanterns were strung up over the tables. A fiddler was tuning his instrument. It was night.
Men and women started coming out of the vineyards. Then Zoey noticed they all appeared to be the same age, thirty or thirty-five. So they weren’t men and women, they were vampires. They wore work clothes. Some of them looked dusty and disheveled, but they all seemed happy.
Lena carried a case of Mason jars out of the kitchen door. She looked different. Her pretty face was fuller and luminous with satisfaction. She placed the jars on a table next to a big wooden barrel with a tap on it. Someone handed Zoey a Mason jar full of wine. She took a sip and knew it was Andre’s special vintage. The fiddler began to play music, and a lanky redhead began singing in a language that could only be Croatian.
Zoey had the feeling it was the beginning of a party that would last until dawn. The festivities gathered steam, and several people looked to be on the verge of dancing. The joyful atmosphere was contagious, and Zoey’s heart soared with the music.
Then he was next to her, bending low to speak in her ear. “Hello, love.”
“Andre, what is all this?”
“It is the Night Harvest. Are you having fun?”
“I’m just watching.”
“Good, then come with me.” He put his arms around her waist, and suddenly they were flying through the air. In less than a minute they were on the ground outside of the little stand of trees surrounding the hot spring. Dream Andre was sentimental—he’d brought her to the site of their first kiss.
“What are we doing here?”
“Finishing what we started.”
He took her hand and led her into the trees. He lifted her onto the same rock she had stood on to kiss him.
It was a dream. He wasn’t real. It was safe to kiss, because he couldn’t bond to her in a dream. She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His face shone down on her, bright with that gorgeous smile that made her heart thud. On his face, there was none of the intensity and concentration she’d grown used to. He wasn’t fighting the attraction, or the blood hunger. Instead, he was relaxed and at ease.
A cruel thought interrupted her appreciation of him: This happy ending is only in my subconscious. Her joy ebbed.
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t real. I don’t get happy endings.”
“Zoey, it is real. This time you do.”
He kissed her before she could argue. He skipped the gentle kisses he had led with before. He gripped the back of her head and coaxed her lips open with his tongue. She let him explore her mouth, running his tongue along her teeth and then stroking her own. He took his hand from behind her head and gripped both her shoulders, while pulling her lower lip between his teeth.
“I want to see you, Zoey. I am going to take this off.”
She looked down to see what she was wearing. Her linen dress and a wrap to keep the cool night air off her bare arms.
She checked for panties. Of course not, who wears panties in an erotic dream?
Any self-consciousness she might have felt about standing before him naked was erased by the hungry and adoring look on his face. It was a look she had seen there before, and the memory made her instantly wet for him.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but Zoey cut him off.
“Sshh. Come here.”
In response, he flashed his sexy smile again. “You’re the boss.” He closed the distance between them.
“I want to see you, too.” She reached for the top button of his shirt, but it slipped out of her fingers. She grasped for it, but he faded away and she couldn’t get a hold of him. “Andre, what’s happening?” His body became translucent. Panic tightened her chest. She tried to grab empty space. “Andre?” He was gone. She screamed. “Andre!”
Some part of Zoey’s brain reminded her that it was just a dream, but panic won. Her limbs went rigid. Blackness took over her field of vision. She was alone. No one knew her. No one cared about her. She couldn’t breathe. She was dying. All alone and dying. She tried to scream but had no air. Her words were a harsh whisper. “Andre! Come back!” He had left her alone. Just like Michael. She sobbed. “Andre, please come back.”
She was shaking, her body being rocked unmercifully.
“Zoey, Zoey. Wake up, sweet. It’s just a dream.”
There were hands, two big, warm hands jostling her from the dream-turned-nightmare. When she opened her eyes, Andre’s face was bent over hers. He smoothed her hair off her forehead.
She reached up and grabbed his wrist. “You’re here.”
I’m not alone. I’m not dying.
She could breathe, and she did, inhaling deeply. She locked her eyes on him and tried not to blink for fear he would disappear again.
“I’m here. I’ve been here the whole time. I’m not going anywhere.” He smoothed her hair off her forehead again. “Christ, that was some roller coaster of a dream,” he said, looking worried.
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