But who could blame her? The man in her barn, even injured, oozed sex from every pore. One look into those dark eyes and any woman with a pulse would want to throw herself at him. Tessa was no different—despite having plenty of reasons to know better. Completely disgusted with herself now, she headed for the barn before she could find an excuse not to.
The sun was up and slanting across the yard, glinting on the snow brightly enough to make her squint just to keep her eyes clear. Another storm was due, and judging by the thick clouds surrounding that clear spot where the sun clung stubbornly to the sky, it was going to be a big one.
The air was icy and every breath felt as though she were sucking knives into her lungs. The naked branches of the trees surrounding the house were draped in ice that looked like diamonds, dazzling in the sunlight. From a distance, the sound of a fast-moving creek came to her and Tessa paused again, just to enjoy the place she’d finally decided to call home.
Five long years of belonging nowhere, of owning nothing. Five years of using false names and never trusting a soul. Then one day, Tessa had driven down this lonely stretch of road, spotted this house and recognized home. She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t really been looking for it. But this spot, this place, had called to her. As if it had been standing vacant, just waiting for her to come home and bring it to life again.
The small miracle was, that as she’d brought the old Victorian back from its slumbers…the house had awakened her, too. It was as if she was finally becoming the woman she’d once been. The woman who danced in the kitchen. The woman who could enjoy a quiet moment in the stillness, just appreciating a beautiful day.
And because she’d found that miracle, she was strong enough to help a man who looked as though he could use one, too.
With that thought firmly in mind, she headed for the barn again. Her boots crunched in the snow and the wind whipped around her, sneaking icy fingers down the collar of the jacket she’d thrown on over her sweater.
She didn’t care though. It felt good to be alive. And if she was a little nervous about the stranger in her barn…it was a natural kind of nervousness. So that was good, too.
She rounded the corner, stepped through the open barn door and stopped. He was gone.
“Mr. Stone?” She took another step and now her boots clacked and echoed against the old wooden planks. “Mr. Stone.”
“Over here.”
Her head whipped to one side and she spotted him, all the way into the corner of the barn; he had his back to the wall and his gaze on her. All around him slivers of sunlight peeked through the roof like golden bars of a cell, holding him in place.
A niggling, ridiculous notion tugged at the back of her mind for a second before she could dismiss it. “Are you all right?”
“Great.” His voice was tight. “Your roof needs fixing.”
“Yeah, but it’s low on the list right now.” She walked toward him with slow steps. Funny, but she felt almost as if she were trying to ease up on a hungry tiger. He had a taut stillness about him that made her think of a predator. And that was almost enough to make her back out of the barn and leave him alone. But if she did that, then she would be surrendering to her own fears and she’d worked too hard to get past that time in her life. To rediscover her own courage and the spirit that had once been so completely crushed.
“Look,” she said, forgetting about the fact that just a few minutes ago she’d wanted him gone, “you don’t have to stay in the barn. I told you, you can come inside. It’s warmer there and the roof doesn’t sprout sunlight every few inches.”
He scraped one hand across his face, then focused his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she saw the flash of something molten in those dark depths.
“You don’t have to do this.” His voice rumbled out around her, soft, deep, almost hypnotic. “You should go back inside. Don’t come back here.”
“This is my barn,” Tessa reminded him. “Of course I’m coming back here.”
He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?”
“Excuse me?” She knelt on the floor beside him and opened the first-aid kit. “I’m not the one who was lying unconscious in the snow.”
“I appreciate what you did, but you should just go back to your house. I’ll be gone by nightfall.”
“To where? I didn’t see a car out front.” And as she said it, Tessa wondered just how in the heck he’d come to be in her yard, anyway. Had he walked from town? In the snow?
“That’s not your concern.” He moved farther from her, tucking himself deeper into the shadowy corner.
Just then, the sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and the barn darkened, the slanting bars of sunlight winking out as if they’d never been. And the man huddled against the barn wall sighed, as if in relief.
“More snow’s coming,” Tessa pointed out with a glance behind her at the open barn door. She could smell it on the wind and in a heartbeat, she made a decision. “You can’t leave. This storm is supposed to be a big one. You probably wouldn’t make it into town before it hit—even if you had a car.”
Scowling, he gritted his teeth and gave her a short nod. “You’re right. I’ll wait out the storm.”
“Not out here, you won’t.” She picked up the first-aid kit again and stood up, to look down at him. “You’ll freeze to death.”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
“So I can find your frozen dead body in the morning?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine.” Grayson pushed himself to his feet and swayed a little, reaching out one hand to the wall to steady himself.
He was hungry. Every cell in his body cried out for blood and the temptation of having her so near to him was one he was hard put to ignore. Her eyes stared up at him with concern, though, and that was enough to at least momentarily bank the bloodlust clamoring inside.
She had helped him. He wouldn’t repay her by sinking his teeth into her lovely throat.
No matter how much he longed to.
He shot a quick look at the world beyond the barn and noted that the light was gray, clouds having obliterated the sun. He could make it to the house. And once inside, away from the light, he could gather his strength. Then he’d leave her before his hunger outstripped his sense of chivalry.
“Lean on me.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking her shoulder under his arm.
“This is getting to be a habit,” he muttered and was rewarded by the smile she flashed him.
“Let’s get you into the house.”
They made it across the yard and up the steps, with Tessa supporting his every stride. It had been a long time since Grayson had needed anyone’s help. And accepting that help didn’t come easily to him. Still, he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t get into the house and away from the danger of sunlight, he would die. And just at this moment, with Tessa’s scent filling him, he realized that he wasn’t ready to march into hell.
“Come on,” she said, opening the door. “Come inside and sit down near the fire.”
Her invitation was enough to let him pass the threshold and he stumbled through the kitchen with her help, into the wide living room where a fire blazed and crackled in the hearth. She eased him onto an overstuffed sofa crowded with colorful pillows and Grayson laid his head on the back of the couch. The fatigue seeping into every square inch of his body dragged at him.
He hadn’t been awake during daylight hours in decades. Now he remembered why. He battled unconsciousness, his thoughts becoming fuzzy, his breathing slowing. The scent of cinnamon hung in the air and mingled with the pine garland strung across the mantel. Christmas.
Not a particularly festive time in a vampire’s year.
Especially for him.
Being in this house again brought back memories so vivid, so alive, the empty room seemed to throb with them. He’d built this house himself. Moved his wife and
children into it. Planned to live, grow old and die within its walls.
Well, he’d gotten one out of three right.
“Are you hungry?”
He turned his head to look at her. His gaze locked on the graceful column of her throat and he would have sworn he could actually see her pulse pounding there. Her blood would be warm and rich and sweet. He could almost taste it, flowing down his throat, slaking his thirst, easing his pain.
Deliberately, he closed his eyes. “No.”
“At least let me get you some coffee.”
“Fine. And—” he spoke quickly as she turned to go to the kitchen “—I’m expecting a delivery this afternoon. If I’m…asleep, will you sign for it?”
“Sure, but—”
“Thanks.” That one word was a dismissal and she obviously felt it. He wasn’t about to explain about the delivery of blood for which he’d arranged before he knew his house would be occupied. And, he told himself, his business manager was going to pay for it as soon as Grayson returned to New York.
“Okay, be right back.”
He listened to the fire, letting its soothing sounds settle over him. Memories crowded his mind as sleep dragged him down—images of a different place, a different time, danced through his mind, one after the other. He allowed them to fill him and welcomed the pain as he remembered the faces of his children. His wife’s voice.
Then the images shifted, changing, becoming the living nightmare that was never entirely gone.
His family’s screams echoed over and over again in his mind and Grayson jerked awake suddenly with a shriek erupting from his own chest.
The sun.
“Damn it!” He jolted from the couch and the wide beam of sunlight lying across it.
The windows were uncovered to welcome whatever winter sunlight made it through the clouds. And the once shadow-filled living room was now bathed in a golden light that had already burned patches of skin from his hands and face.
Skin smoking, eyes streaming, Grayson took one long leap and stood against the far wall, air wheezing from his lungs. His fangs exploded in his mouth and the adrenaline coursing through him turned him into a dangerous creature. Age-old instincts rippled through him and whatever there was left of the man he’d been drained away. He was now a wild thing—looking for survival above all else.
“Fool.” The day had made him slow and stupid. He should have secured the damn drapes. Made certain that no sun could reach him. But he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been so wrapped up in the past he’d forgotten about the present.
He squinted into the sunlight streaming through the window and screaming pain lanced through his mind and body. His chest felt tight, his lungs strained for air. His skin was ablaze with burning agony. He turned his gaze from the window, lifted one scorched hand to protect his eyes and spotted Tessa, who had stopped dead in the doorway.
As if in slow motion, she dropped the coffee cup she held. It shattered on the floor, brown liquid splashing up on her jeans. Her eyes wide, her mouth open, she looked at him and he knew exactly what she was seeing.
A monster.
Chapter 3
“O h, my God!” She clapped one hand to her mouth and stared at him through horror-stricken eyes. “You…who…what are you?”
His lips peeled back from his fangs and she shrank back another step or two. Caught against the wall, splayed there as surely as if he’d been chained, Grayson watched her and focused only on her. He couldn’t allow her to panic.
He needed her.
A part of him was sorry to see that look in her eyes. A part of him had enjoyed being treated as an ordinary man. Yet, he didn’t have time for her fear. He had only moments before the encroaching sun found him in the narrow patch of shade he stood in.
Staring directly into her eyes, he used the full force of his legendary power to direct her to do exactly as he ordered. “Go to the bookcase,” he said, his voice tight against the pain still lancing through him. His fangs retracted slightly, reacting to the agony sweeping through him. Hissing in a breath, he swallowed back the pain. “There’s a latch. Halfway down the first shelf. Pull it.”
She did, taking one small step after another, as if she were a marionette and someone else—he—was pulling her strings. She found the latch, gave it a hard yank and the bookcase pulled away from the wall with a loud creak from the hidden hinges. Tessa only stood there, watching him, and Grayson couldn’t allow himself to think about what she was feeling.
The only way to safety lay through the slanting rays of golden light. More pain. But then, pain had become a way of life for him. Pain and hunger. Both of which jolted through his system, leaving him both ultra-alert and exhausted. Gathering what little of his strength remained, he braced himself for the dash through sunlight into the promised sanctuary of the hidden room—hopefully without bursting into flame.
He bolted quickly and in four long steps, he was safely in shadow again. His skin buzzing, his hair smoking, Grayson took a breath and bit down hard on the agony holding him in a tight fist. He stood in the room he’d created for his family’s safety so long ago and thought it ironic that this room hadn’t served its purpose until he was dead.
Then Tessa, free of his influence, came around the edge of the bookcase and gave him a hard look.
Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her eyes still shone with the shock of a truth she could barely believe and the scent of fear wafted from her like a heady perfume. But there was more. There was also anger.
“You lied to me.”
He hadn’t expected that to be the first thing she said to him. “I didn’t lie.”
“You let me believe you were a man. But you’re not.”
“No.”
“You’re…” Tessa broke off, unable to say the word her mind kept screaming.
“A vampire,” he finished for her. “Yes.”
“That’s impossible.” Tessa fought against the wild panic clutching at her heart, squeezing her throat tight until she felt as though she’d never draw another breath.
But even as she tried to deny it, she knew it was true. She’d seen his…fangs. God. Her head felt as if it were going to explode. She couldn’t believe this was happening. There had to be some other explanation. Trick of the light. Her eyes went weird on her, that was all. She’d seen something that wasn’t there.
Vampires only existed in television shows. Really gorgeous vamps, with souls who didn’t bite people. Well, she told herself with another shocked look at him. He had the gorgeous part down pat. Who knew about the biting. Oh, God. A vampire.
This was so not happening. Clearly, the years on the run had pushed her over the edge. Her brain had finally snapped and who could blame her?
“Impossible,” she repeated firmly, determined to not go believing in imaginary creatures—no matter how gorgeous they were.
“Is it?” He lifted both hands and she saw the burns marking his skin. Brain whirling, she remembered the same scorch marks she’d seen on his skin earlier, when she’d found him lying in the dawn.
Sunlight.
“No way,” she said, fingers tightening on the bookshelf until she wouldn’t have been surprised to see indentations from her grip smashed into the heavy wood.
He blew out a breath, scraped one hand through his thick hair and slowly stalked the confines of a hidden room she’d been completely unaware of. She kept her gaze on him, and still managed to give the small room a quick once-over. There was a square table and four chairs. A single bed pushed against one wall and several empty shelves along another. It was a safe room of some kind, she thought as he spoke again.
“Believe me or don’t. That’s your business.”
He sounded tired. And she could understand that. Nearly going up in flames was bound to take a toll. Even from across this distance, she saw the scorched, burned flesh on the backs of his hands and on his face. He had to be in terrible pain, but he showed no sign of it.
And despite the evidence
in front of her, Tessa argued with the only possible conclusion. She fixed her gaze on him and found the tattered threads of her courage. “Vampires don’t exist.”
“Not if you don’t want them to.” He leaned against the empty shelving and blew out a breath.
“If you are one, and I’m not saying you are,” Tessa hedged, “why didn’t you bite me before?”
He gave her a long, thoughtful stare. “Thought about it.” His gaze lowered to the base of her neck. “Still thinking about it.”
Her stomach turned over and fear quickened within only to dissipate a moment later. He’d had ample opportunity to kill her, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d warned her off. Tried to make her leave him alone. And right now, he was trying to scare her into backing away.
“You’re lying again.” She shook her head. “If you’d thought about biting me, you would have.”
“No,” he said with a smile that curled her toes. “I’m not lying. I wanted to drink you.”
She sucked in air like a drowning person and felt the world tilt at a weird angle. As he stared at her, she could almost feel his mouth at her throat and a part of her wondered desperately what that would feel like.
Was he making her feel like this?
“Why didn’t you then?”
Wincing, he rubbed one hand with the other and shrugged. “You were trying to help. Seemed ungrateful.”
“A polite vampire?” Why did that sound so much weirder?
He laughed shortly, used the toe of his boot to pull out one of the ancient chairs and dropped onto it as if he didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. Bracing one arm on the table, he leaned back, kicked his feet out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “Let’s say old habits are hard to break. Good manners being one of them.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I told you to leave me alone.”
“You didn’t tell me this though.”
“You wouldn’t have believed me anyway,” he pointed out.
“True.” She wouldn’t have. If he’d been honest with her, she’d have thought he was crazy. She could hardly believe his truth now, and she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes. He had fangs, for Pete’s sake. Sunlight had burned him. Another moment or two and he would have died. But, could someone already dead actually die again?
Holiday with a Vampire Page 2
