“Welcome to travel by vampire,” he said with a quicksilver smile.
Then I imploded.
• • •
“It’s always weird the first time,” said Patsy.
“Gurg,” I managed.
When my molecules had melded back together and we appeared in a room that looked like a white blur to my abused eyes, I had oozed out of Ren’s arms and onto the floor. A circle of concerned faces looked down at me, including Dove’s—and some gorgeous redheaded lady who wore a filmy green dress and no shoes. She had tattoos on her visible skin, except on her face. The tattoos sparkled and moved. Well, my bar for “weird” was really high now, so glowing gold tattoos weren’t too far into the freak zone.
“I never, and I mean never, want to do that again.” I lifted a hand to my tender jaw. “I think I’ll stop talking now.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said the redheaded woman in an Irish lilt. She glanced at Dove. “You, too. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
All the faces disappeared as people straightened and wandered away—to the kitchen presumably.
I groaned.
Drake crouched beside me. “Do you need help?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
He put his arms underneath me and in one smooth motion lifted me and stood up. It wasn’t lost on me that he picked up my six-foot frame and generously curvy body with the same effort he might put into carting around a bag of feathers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and saw his eyes flare with something electric and hungry.
“I think I’m feeling better,” I murmured. I resisted the urge to touch that square jaw of his. He had some scruff, and I wanted to trail my fingers over it.
He grinned.
Butterflies danced in my belly.
“Are you really a werewolf?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his grin widening to show far too many sharp white teeth. “I’ll show you one day, my beauty.” He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You are not afraid, are you?”
“It’s against the archaeologist’s code,” I said. I held up two fingers. “Brave, true, and strong.” I offered him a half smile. “So, no, I’m not afraid.”
“We shall see,” he said in a low, growly voice. My pulse jumped, and I saw his eyes dilate. I realized he could use his animal senses to detect things about me . . . such as arousal. And I was there, all right. Drake managed to turn the rusty crank on my libido, and it was going full spin right now.
He carried me into the kitchen. It was large, open, and rustic-looking, with a huge stone hearth that had—I kid you not—a black cauldron hovering over the fire. Something bubbled inside it. Bat eyeballs? Dead man’s bones? Laundry?
“Welcome to the Three Sisters Bed-and-Breakfast.”
I craned my neck and saw another redhead near a table with a spread of food that made my stomach growl. It had been a long time since I’d eaten those tiny quiches.
“Healin’ first, then feastin’,” ordered the other redhead. “Put her in this chair, Drake.”
Drake did has he was told, gently depositing me into a hard-backed chair that had been pulled out from a rectangular oak table. He stepped back.
“I’m Brigid,” she said in that lovely Irish voice. “You’ll be feelin’ right as rain in no time.”
“Dove first,” I said. “You might want check her feet, too, and see if she has any toes left.”
“Har, har,” said Dove, who was seated catty-corner to me.
“Very well,” Brigid said with a smile. She moved to Dove and lightly cupped the girl’s chin. After a moment of examining the bruise, she placed her fingertips along Dove’s jawline. The tattoos sparkling on her arms shifted into different symbols and then gold—well, “magic” was the only word I could use—flowed from her fingers to Dove’s face and down her neck. Dove closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
Brigid stepped back and studied her handiwork. “How do you feel, then?”
“Awesome.” Dove’s eyes fluttered open. “Thank you.”
“An’ you’re welcome.” Brigid turned to me. “They hit you harder, seems like.”
“Well, I really pissed them off.”
She laughed. Then she placed her fingertips on my jaw, the tattoos swirled once again, the gold light drifted from her fingers. I closed my eyes as the tingling sensation of warmth penetrated my sore jaw and my aching head and neck. After a while the sensations faded, and when my eyes opened, I felt perfectly fine.
“There now,” said Brigid. “All better.”
“What kind of paranormal are you?” asked Dove.
“Oh, not a paranormal like you’ll find in Broken Heart,” said Brigid. “I’m a goddess.”
Dove blinked. “You’re the Brigid? The Celtic goddess of healing?”
“Among many other things,” said Brigid. “All you need now is some food and sleep.”
“I’m already asleep,” I muttered. Seriously, it had to be a dream. Brigid the goddess of healing, wisdom, poetry, keening, and metalsmithing had just healed me. I could not be awake. I’d been bored senseless at the gala and was no doubt collapsed in a corner of the room, snoring away while people stepped over my prone form.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” The other redhead set a cup of tea on the table next to me. “Chamomile,” she said. “To soothe your nerves.”
“I might require something stronger than tea,” I said.
“Trust me. It’ll do the trick.” She offered a hand, and said, “I’m Lenette.”
“Moira. And Dove,” I replied, nodding toward my friend. I shook Lenette’s hand, and then I peered at her. “You don’t seem to be dead or among the furred ones.”
“Oh, no,” she said, “I’m a witch.”
“Of course you are.”
“Welcome to Broken Heart.” She placed a cup of tea next to Dove, who picked it up by the delicate handle and sipped.
“This is wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.”
I took Dove’s lead and pretended that everything was normal, even though I was currently taking tea in a room with a witch, a goddess, a werewolf, and some vampires. The tea was very good indeed, and I did feel my tension loosen as I sipped the fragrant liquid.
“You’ll need these,” said Drake. He placed something warm and sticky on my shoulder. I looked down and saw a heart with a sword through it. The tattoo glittered briefly before disappearing into my skin.
He did the same to Dove’s shoulder.
“The Invisi-shield requires that all within the town’s borders have these emblems,” said Drake.
“The Invisi-shield?” asked Dove. “That sounds like the brand name of tampons.”
Patsy, who was currently getting her feet rubbed by her husband, snorted a laugh. “Well, it was that or Maxi-shield.” She grinned. “You’ve been issued temporary invitations to Broken Heart. Then you spend tomorrow evening solving the mystery of the pyramid.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
Patsy looked at me, her expression grave. “Then it’s the end of the world.”
Chapter 13
“No pressure there,” said Dove. She glanced at me, and I could see then she wasn’t as cool a customer as she appeared. Her eyes were shadowed with a combination of fear and excitement. So far, I hadn’t run screaming into the night, either. Go, Team!
“The end of the world?” I sputtered. I eyed Drake and found him studying my generous cleavage. He glanced up, saw that he’d been caught, and offered me a wicked grin. Talk about waking up the ol’ hormones. I’d never wanted anyone like I wanted him, not in my whole life. Whew.
“The world world? As in the planet we’re currently on?” asked Dove.
“Well, the world as we know it,” said Patsy. She yawned, as if apocalyptic talk was more boring than discussing weather patterns. Her expression was like that of a purring kitten. Well, if I had a handsome man rubbing my feet and calves, I’d be purring, too. And there was Drake just inches away, standing like a sentinel with
his crossed arms and legs spread apart. Oh, if only he would get down on bended knee and take those big ol’ hands and . . . my imagination went awry. I shut down the erotic images. Wow. Who knew my imagination was so vivid?
“If Karn has his way,” said Drake, “then the world will know that parakind really exists.”
“Yeah, that’s been mentioned.” I resisted the urge to fan myself. It seemed really, really hot in here. “If you need this tech patch to get past the Invisi-shield, is it impossible to sneak inside Broken Heart?”
“Unfortunately, no protection is foolproof and Karn’s persistent.”
Patsy yawned again. “I think y’all need to eat and then head on to bed. Tomorrow we’ll reboot those memories of yours, take you to the pyramid, and get you started on your awesome adventure.” Her husband helped her to stand and then gathered her close, resting his head against hers. It was such a natural thing to do, and I was fascinated by their relationship harmony. They seemed to fit together so well, like they’d been carved from the same piece of marble. Mates. Like bookends. Or gibbons.
“Sure. Because I can sleep. No problem.” I eyed the pastries closest to my saucer. “Maybe a sugar coma is in order.”
“We’ll start with protein,” said Lenette, sliding a huge chicken salad sandwich in front of me. The bread was thickly sliced, and I could see the grapes and walnuts among the chunks of mayo-ed chicken. I loved food. Maybe a little too much, but given my job, I tended to burn a lot of calories in sweat and effort. The sandwich seemed to weigh as much as a gold brick and it tasted like sweet, sweet ambrosia.
“Oh, my gawd,” said Dove after she swallowed a mouthful.
I didn’t want words to interrupt my inhalation of delicious food, so I offered wholehearted agreement through nodding.
Everyone except for Lenette and Drake wished us a good night, and I gurgled back at them through mouthfuls of warm blueberry scone. By the time we were done eating sandwiches and pastries, and drinking more tea, I was so stuffed I felt like someone would have to roll me barrel-like to wherever the bed was located.
“I think you accidentally ate a plate,” said Dove, who’d been my companion in behavior most glutton. She followed up her accusation with a huge burp. “Whoa. Excuse me.”
“It was a delicious plate,” I said primly. I dabbed my lips with a napkin. “That was the best food we ever ate.”
“Emphasis on ever,” agreed Dove. She yawned, stretching her arms out. Then she looked down tiredly at her monster shoes. “Shit.” She glared at me. “This is your fault. I honored your shoe request and now I can’t feel my feet.”
“Next time I’ll ask for notification of our kidnapping so we can choose appropriate footwear.” A full belly, an evening of stressful events, and uncertainty about the future were more than my body could take. I was the kind of tired I got after traipsing around a dig site all day. I’d slept in a lot of weird, uncomfortable places (ask me about the sarcophagus—go on . . . ask me), so settling back into the chair for a snooze would be no big deal.
“Perhaps it is time for you lovely ladies to retire?” Drake aimed a smoky bedroom-eyed gaze at me, and something hot and sizzling burst through my exhaustion.
“Va-va-voom,” muttered Dove.
“Drake, why don’t you show Moira to her room?” asked Lenette. “I’ll help pry Dove out of her boots.”
He stood, and offered a formal half bow, much in the same way Karn had, and extended his hand. My dress was filthy, my ponytail limp, and my makeup smeared. I must have looked like I’d crawled out from a sand dune in evening wear. Yikes. Still, I took his hand and wobbled to my bare feet. Wow. I hadn’t even noticed my lack of shoes. I vaguely wondered if anyone had picked up my high heels. Then the thought of Doriana and the gala entered my tired mind. What had happened after the brawl?
I stared down at Drake’s hand, which encompassed mine easily. That light touch was keeping me upright. I glanced up at him. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” He kept my hand cupped in his. “Good night, Dove.”
“G’night,” she oofed. “Could you kill me on your way past? Ugh!”
“Maybe on the way back,” he said with a laugh. “If you are still suicidal.”
“Only the suicidal would wear these shoes,” said Lenette as she struggled with pulling at the heel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Dove. “Probably.”
“Yeah. Good knowing you.” She waved halfheartedly, her focus on extracting her calves from the red leather.
Drake led me from the kitchen into the common area, which had a cozy jumble of furniture, some near the fireplace, other pieces set in an arrangement to encourage intimate conversation, and yet others near windows or alone. Those chairs were by bookshelves, so were no doubt meant for the solitary reader. The pastel colors, casually draped doilies, and plentitude of quirky trinkets made the room feel like you were visiting your eccentric great-aunt.
I liked it.
Drake led me to a staircase and gestured for me to go ahead of him. He let go of my hand, and I have to admit, for a second I felt bereft. Holding hands was such a nice, normal sign of affection. I’d never given it much merit before.
I walked up the stairs and Drake followed. At the top, I looked down the narrow hallway. “Are they all occupied?”
“Just you and Dove tonight,” he said. “Lenette gave you the room at the end on the left.”
“Okay.”
As I started down the hall, one of the doors on the right opened, and a man dressed in a polo shirt, khakis, and tennis shoes exited. He held a handful of pink towels. He looked at me and Drake and offered a smile. “Washer foul,” he said. “Never put red socks in with white towels.”
I didn’t do laundry, so I had no idea what the etiquette was for putting clothes in the washer. Since I had household staff at my home, my dirty clothes disappeared from the hamper and appeared clean and pressed in my closet. As far as I was concerned it was magic. Well, more likely it was the steely-eyed glare and OCD machinations of Mr. Harold Keyter, who was the ruler of the staff and all things house-related. My grandfather had hired him twenty years ago, so Mr. Keyter had had the delightful experience of meeting me when I was fourteen. You know, right before I suffered my breakdown and went into psychiatric care. And I have been a delight to be around ever since. Mr. Keyter was respectful, but firm in his manner and tone. To this day, despite practically being family, he called me Dr. Jameson and I called him Mr. Keyter. Some things are just done a certain way, no matter what. And there is comfort in the unchanging, no matter how small. I knew too well how life could upend your expectations and screw with you.
“Hello,” he said. The man looked odd. His skin was kinda gray, and he moved somewhat stiffly, like he had joint problems. “I’m Lenette’s husband,” he said.
“Nice to see you again,” said Drake. “This is our archaeologist, Dr. Moira Jameson.”
“You’re here to address the pyramid issue,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. I was trying not to stare. I couldn’t figure out what this guy was. Maybe he was a warlock since he was married to a witch? Or were males just called witches, too? Or was he something else?
“I’ll let you get to bed,” said the man. “Good night.”
We wished him good night as well, and then he shuffled off. Drake led me to my room, unlocked the door with an old-fashioned brass key, and ushered me inside.
“Okay. What was he?” I asked.
“We don’t quite know,” said Drake. “Half zombie, maybe.”
“How the hell can you be half of a zombie?”
“He was bitten by one, and he didn’t die. Or turn into one. He’s alive. Sorta.” Drake shrugged. “Broken Heart has many different creatures from the parakind world.”
“And nobody knows you guys are out here in . . . er, where are we again?”
“Oklahoma.”
I blinked. I’d never had cause to go to this part of the country. And if I had,
going to Oklahoma wouldn’t have been at the top of my list. I couldn’t think of single thing I knew about this state. My brain files mostly had items about ancient cultures. Oh, wait! Oklahoma had the Heavener Runestone. Now that would be interesting to see. The theory that Vikings had traveled through our part of the American continent was an exciting idea.
“I would think a huge paranormal population in Oklahoma would be noticed,” I said. I was intently aware that we were alone in a room with a four-poster with a mountain of pillows and a plush patchwork comforter. I couldn’t wait to crawl in. If only Drake was crawling in with me. . . .
“We have taken precautions to protect the community. The Invisi-shield prevents people from knowing that the town is here.” He looked at me, and reached out to brush his thumb over my jaw. “You are exhausted. Please. Go to bed.”
It should’ve been a strange thing to have a man I’d known a couple of hours touch me so intimately. But it felt natural, as though he’d done so a thousand times before. And yet, an electric thrill pulsed in my belly . . . and in parts farther south. I’d never experienced the dichotomy of being both comfortable and excited in the same moment. A moment caused by one of the hottest men I’d ever met.
I suddenly felt sleepy . . . so sleepy, in fact, that my eyes drooped and my body didn’t want to stay upright. “Whoa,” I said, swaying.
Drake put his arms around my shoulders and led me to the bed. He unfurled the covers, and I crawled into the space. And by crawled, I mean I fell facefirst into the soft sheets and rolled onto my back. Drake moved aside the three thousand pillows piled against the headboard and tucked a big fluffy one under my head.
“So tired,” I said. I could feel my brain shutting down. And my body felt like a bowl of fresh-cooked noodles.
“Ah. Well, we need you and Dove to rest deeply the entirety of the day,” he said. He pulled the covers up to my chin. “Lenette added some ingredients to the food to ensure that you would sleep very well.”
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