HOLIDAY WITH A VAMPIRE
MAUREEN CHILD AND
CARIDAD PIÑEIRO
Contents
Christmas Cravings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Fate Calls
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
CHRISTMAS CRAVINGS
MAUREEN CHILD
With love to my mom, Sallye Carberry,
for always reading, catching my typos
and being the best mom ever!
Chapter 1
G rayson Stone felt the dawn coming and knew he couldn’t escape it.
He stirred in the snow, his body splayed in the center of a neatly tended yard, and wondered for a second where the hell he was. Then he remembered. A vague echo of a memory danced through his dazed mind. He’d come back to Whisper, Wyoming, as he had every year since his death.
It was the week before Christmas and he’d come here to hide away. To forget. To remember. To lose himself in the serene quiet of what was still a wilderness.
He blinked and focused his eyes on a nearby bush—carefully pruned into the shape of a lopsided elephant—and told himself that the wilderness had done some changing.
But what did it matter? The pounding ache in his head, the lethargy of his body, the creeping sluggishness moving through his system incrementally told him that he didn’t have enough time to think these questions through, anyway. He shifted his gaze to the lightening sky. Already, that broad, sweeping expanse was a faint shade of lavender, heralding the coming sun. And while he watched the day begin, he thought about just how long it had been since the last time he’d seen a sunrise.
One hundred and fifty years.
Times had been so different then. Hell, he had been different, then. Alive, for one. And not in danger of combusting in the first rays of dawn.
“Ironic or poetic that I should die here again?” he whispered, just to hear a sound other than the soft sigh of the wind through the bushes. He’d spent most of his undead life far from Wyoming and the memories that haunted this place. And yet, it seemed that Fate had a sense of humor. He’d come home to die a second time.
His skin prickled with the coming of the sun. It felt as though every nerve ending in his body was suddenly electrically charged. He’d seen so much over the years. Done so much. He frowned at that stray thought, then let it go. He was what he was. Too late now to regret the past. And far too late to beg forgiveness of a God who’d written him off a century before. But there would probably be a welcome party in Hell just for him. Grayson closed his eyes, smiled a little and waited for the flash of fire that would consume him.
“Are you all right?” A soft voice, definitely female, filled with concern and just a little fear.
He didn’t have to hear her fright. He could smell it. Taste it. Opening his eyes again, though it took a Herculean effort, Grayson stared up at a woman, backlit by the growing light.
She smiled, shook her head until her short brown cap of curls danced and answered her own question. “Of course you’re not all right. You’re lying in the snow, probably half-frozen and your head’s bleeding. Not a good sign at all.”
His head was bleeding? Explained the pounding in his skull, but damned if Grayson could remember what had happened to him.
Her scent flavored the air around her. Soap and shampoo and something that was inherently her.
“Well, I can’t just leave you lying out here in the snow.” She stood, and looked around, as if hoping help would appear. When nothing happened, she glanced back at him and said, “I can get you out of the cold, but no way can I lift you. I probably shouldn’t move you at all, but you’ll freeze to death here, right?”
She nodded, convinced by her own argument. She glanced around the empty yard, then back to him. “The barn’s closer. We’ll go there, then figure out how to get you into the house. I can’t leave you out here. And don’t worry. I’m stronger than I look. I’m pretty sure I can drag you there.”
Drag him? He glanced at her and with a single look took in her short, curvy figure. Dressed in a heavy sweater, blue jeans and boots that came almost to her knees, she was a slight woman, nowhere near muscular enough to drag him anywhere.
But she stalwartly grabbed his hands in hers. “Wow, you’ve been out here a long time. Your hands are like ice.”
“Don’t,” he said, pushing that single word past lips that felt wooden, stiff with both the cold and the coming dawn. He didn’t want her help. Didn’t want to owe her anything. Safer for her if she just stayed away from him. He was a lost cause, anyway.
“You’re right.” She dropped his hands, and bent down in the snow beside him. “Look, I’ll never be able to drag you. But I could probably help you walk, if you’ve got it in you. Just lean on me and we’ll get you out of the cold.”
She pulled him into a sitting position and Grayson, understanding that she was clearly not going to give up on helping him, called on every last ounce of his remaining strength. His body was tired. Fatigue seeped into every cell and bled into his veins.
The dawn crept nearer and every minute that passed brought him closer to oblivion. He’d thought, only moments ago, that he was ready to face it. That he welcomed the end. Now though, he felt the same will to survive that had trapped him in this particular hell a hundred and fifty years ago.
He leaned heavily on the woman and her scent teased him—surrounded him. He heard the rush of blood through her body and the fast gallop of her heart and everything within him hungered. Raw, desperate need formed a knot in his throat and Grayson choked on it.
His hand tightened on her shoulder and he steeled himself against the hunger that clamored to be eased. It had been a long time since he’d fed from a living human being. But damned if she wasn’t a tempting morsel.
“Just a little farther,” she said.
The sun was coming.
He stumbled and her arm around his waist constricted as she took more of his leaden weight. “Keep going,” she said, her voice a whisper now, strained with effort. “Almost there.”
Why did she care? What made her go out of her way for a strange man? Shouldn’t she have been more concerned for her own safety rather than his? If she’d been smart, she would have called the police when she first spotted him. Although, if she had, he would have been no more than a pile of smoking ash by the time they arrived.
One more step. And another. He forced his legs to move. Forced himself to survive. Again. Why? Instinct, he guessed. Had to be. Even his kind fought for another day at life—such as it was.
He felt the skin on the back of his right hand sizzle. He glanced down and saw the slight twist of smoke lifting from his flesh as the first, barest hint of sunlight touched him. Grayson clenched his teeth against the searing pain and told himself it was no more than he deserved.
“Something’s burning,” she said, never slowing, never stopping. “Close by.”
Yes. Closer than she thought.
He slumped against her as the sizzle and heat began on his cheek now. Exposed flesh, too long denied the sun, went up as kindling and Grayson knew he was only moments from being engulfed.
And if the flames took him while she was wrapped around him, this Good Samaritan would die along with him.
He couldn’t have that.
He’d done damage enough in his too long life already.
Pushing free of her, he staggered forward.
“What’re you doing?” She tried to grab him again, but he lurched ahead, aimed at the open barn door.
“Stay back.” Two words, delivered as an order not to be ignored. Then he lunged for the cool shadows within the barn and toppled into them once past the threshold.
Instantly, relief poured over him like the cool kiss of ice. The darkness swallowed him, and Grayson felt his body begin to heal, begin to awaken now that the morning light had been beaten back. He stirred, scraping his right hand on the rough wooden planks beneath him, and hissed in a breath as the rawness of his flesh erupted with pain. He cradled that hand in his other one and half turned to look at the woman standing in a slice of growing daylight. He squinted at her, made sure he was completely in the shadows, then said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t come any closer and Grayson wondered if she were already regretting her good deed for the day.
Bracing her feet, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, tipped her head to one side and said softly, “Now, why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
“I’d like to know the same thing,” he said, rather than answering her question. “I thought no one lived here.”
“No one did until a few months ago,” she said. “Now I do, and I still want to know why you’re here.”
Wincing a bit, he sat up and moved to one side, where he could brace his back against one of the stalls lining the old barn. In a split second, he took in the whole structure, noting that the barn was empty but for a minivan, a riding lawnmower—and, wouldn’t you know it, there were a few slivers of growing daylight slanting through the gaps in the roof shingles. He nearly hissed at the sight, but managed to contain himself. When he looked back at her, he could see more than concern on her features. Her deep blue eyes were worried. Almost haunted.
He knew what that felt like and in spite of the situation, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“I used to live here,” he said.
“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced. “Because when I bought the place several months ago, it was in good shape, but still looked as though no one had lived here in forever.”
True enough. But he’d come here every year at Christmas. To be alone. Clearly, his business manager had decided to sell the old place and hadn’t even thought to tell Grayson about it. The man deserved to be staked for this.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Uh-huh.” Still not convinced. “So why’re you here now?”
He fingered the back of his head, pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped, though there was a knot there to remind him of how he’d come to be lying in the open. And now that the sun was no longer a threat, his memories of the night before got clearer.
“I got here last night. Saw the lights and was going to leave.” He’d been pretty pissed off about it, too. He’d decided to spend the night in a nearby cave, but before he could leave, he’d sensed something in the woods. Not a vampire. But someone, watching the house.
When whoever it was had left, Grayson let them go. Vampires weren’t big on playing the hero, after all. But then…“Someone hit me over the head. Next thing I knew, you were standing over me.”
Her eyes went wide and frightened. “Did you see who it was?”
“No.” Irritating as hell to admit that. His extraordinary senses should have warned him that he wasn’t alone. But he’d been so damned surprised to find his home occupied that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to the rest of his surroundings.
Tessa Franklin shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Frightening enough to find a nearly unconscious man in her front yard at the crack of dawn. But knowing that someone else had been sneaking around her house in the middle of the night was downright terrifying. What if he’d found her? What if he was watching her right now?
She hunched her shoulders against unseen eyes and fought for the calm she’d worked so hard to find. Pushing her fears back, she raked her gaze over her unexpected guest. A tall man, he was thin, but she’d felt the strength in him as he’d leaned on her moments ago. He wore black jeans, worn boots, a gray sweater and a short, black leather coat. His features were sharp, as if carved from stone with an ax. His eyes were dark, like his hair, his nose was long and narrow and his mouth was thinned into a grim slash.
Even injured, he carried an air of power that was nearly intoxicating—even to a woman who knew better than to trust a handsome man.
Still, if she were to guide her life by past mistakes, then she would have nothing. She had to move forward. Had to trust herself, or she would never be free.
Tessa looked into his deep brown eyes and said, “Look, you’re hurt. So you can stay here for a while, if you want.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “You make a habit of inviting strangers into your home, do you?”
“Actually, yes,” she said, forcing a brave smile she didn’t quite feel. “I do. I run a B and B here. I’ve got one guest now and another arriving tomorrow, but I do have one more empty bedroom, if you need it.”
He scowled at her. “I’m fine here.”
“In the barn.”
“Yes.”
Odd. But then what about this morning hadn’t been odd? “But you’re injured.”
“I’ll heal.”
She didn’t know whether to be pleased or not with the fact that he clearly didn’t want to come into her house. There was something about him that felt…dangerous. And Lord knew, she’d had more than her share of danger already in her life.
But she also saw something else in his eyes. An old pain that she responded to. How could she not recognize suffering in someone else? How could she not do everything she could to help?
“You can’t stay in the barn,” she said, deciding on the spot to insist on taking care of the man. She’d once needed help desperately and she was going to pass on that favor now. “You’ll freeze out here.”
“I won’t be staying.” He crossed his feet at the ankles and absently rubbed at the back of his right hand.
Tessa moved closer. “What happened to your hand? And your cheek?”
He blew out a breath. “I appreciate your help but I don’t need further assistance.”
“At least you could tell me your name,” she said.
He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Grayson Stone.”
“I’m Tessa. Tessa Franklin.” She held her hand out toward him and waited patiently for him to take it.
When he finally did, and his skin met hers, Tessa felt a jolt of something she couldn’t identify pass between them. He felt it, too. She saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before he had the chance to disguise it. And somehow, it made her feel better to know that he was no happier about that flash than she was.
Moving farther back from her, he said, “I’ll rest here, then move on tonight.”
“Maybe that would be best after all,” she whispered, still feeling the hum of her skin where he’d touched her. Her body was awakening to sensations she’d blocked for five years. And the raw ache within threatened to bring her to her knees.
She stood up and backed away, as if distance from this mysterious man could make everything she’d felt drain away. It didn’t help. Shaken, she paused at the doorway, stood in the spear of sunlight and looked at him over her shoulder. Even in the shadows, the fire in his eyes burned hot. She felt the heat of him reaching for her and Tessa knew that Grayson Stone was more dangerous than she’d first believed.
Five years ago, she’d vowed to never give a man power over her again.
Up until this moment, she’d never doubted her ability to honor that vow.
Chapter 2
T essa poured co
ffee into a thermos, gathered up a blanket and her first-aid kit, then carried it all back to the barn. Her one guest, Joe Baston, had spent the night in town, visiting his daughter. Joe hadn’t wanted to put his daughter out—so he’d taken a room at the inn and so she had no one to make breakfast for and nothing to do except care for the man in her barn.
“What are you thinking, Tessa?”
Muttering to herself didn’t really help, but it had become a habit during the last few years. Before coming to Whisper, Wyoming, she hadn’t dared to make friends. Hadn’t even stayed in one spot for longer than two weeks at a stretch. She’d kept moving. Always wary. Always scared, damn it. Until she’d finally awakened one morning to decide that she was through looking at life through her rearview mirror.
So she’d found this place, worked like a dog to fix it up and now she was running her own business. True, it wasn’t much of a business yet, but that would change. All she needed was time.
Her stomach jittered uneasily and Tessa paused long enough to slap one hand to it in a futile attempt to calm herself. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” she said quietly, glancing at the barn just steps away. “He’s hurt. You’re going to help. Then he’ll leave. End of story. Everything back to normal.”
Except, just what was normal? She ran a B and B with only one guest. She lived on the outskirts of a town where she was still pretty much a stranger. Christmas was a week away and she was more alone than ever. And she hadn’t had sex in five years.
Normal?
By whose standards?
“Sex? Who’s talking about sex?” Taking a breath, she picked up the first-aid kit again and said, “You are, Tessa. And you should just cut it out now, got it?”
Holiday with a Vampire Page 1
