A knock came at the door and at Hadrian’s command to enter, George came in, wheeling the cart before him.
Hadrian sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to the patched wood. “You’ve started to fix the bedpost. It looks good.”
George nodded, but the smile he gave was tinged with sadness. “Some things are easier to repair than others.”
Hadrian rose and walked to the cart, snagging a golden chalice. He took a sip of the perfectly warmed blood as he walked to the window. Drawing aside the sheer curtain, he looked downward.
Connie was there, ringing the bell. Soliciting alms from those who passed by.
She looked up at the window.
Had she sensed his presence?
He shifted away, unable to deal with facing her, but encountering George’s condemning gaze was no easier.
Pulling back his shoulders, he laid one hand on his hip and said, “What would you have me do? Chase after her when there are hundreds of free meals just walking around the city for my taking?”
George grasped the handle of the cart and flexed his hands. “Is that all she was, sir? A take-out dinner?”
When his keeper said it so casually, anger rose up in him, but not at George. “Leave now.”
Hadrian was already striding back to the window when he heard the loud slam of the door behind him.
His keeper was annoyed with him, which was fine.
He was angry at himself for many reasons, most of them revolving around the bell-ringing Santa down below.
When he arrived at the window, he peered down once again, reminding himself that once the Christmas season was gone, she would be also.
It was just as well.
Fate had called once again with another Christmas season filled with pain, only this time, the pain was of his own making.
Who knew breaking a promise could bring such misery?
Briefcase in hand, the man walked past her, but then pivoted abruptly and returned. He looked at her in confusion, as if not sure of why he was there and what he was doing, but then he placed his briefcase down, reached into his suit jacket pocket and removed his wallet.
He rifled through the bills before removing all of them and tossing them into the collection kettle.
Baffled, she said, “Thank you, I think.”
With a similarly confused look on his face, he put his wallet back into his suit, grabbed his briefcase and walked away.
She glanced up at the window, wondering. Then she began to ring her bell again, slowly at first but then with more fervor. Wanting to annoy him. Wanting to remind him that she was…
What? Still there? Still within his control if he wanted to reach out and use his power?
A young Goth girl approached, dressed totally in black from head to toe. The metal chains dangling from her jeans jangled almost like small bells in the night. Her pace was sharp and fast as she neared, clearly on her way to something important.
The closer she got, however, the more her gait slowed until the Goth stopped before the kettle, dug into her black leather jacket pocket and extracted a handful of change. She flung it into the kettle, the change merrily clinking against the rim before dropping onto the businessman’s pile of bills.
Then the Goth girl hurried away, her pace as determined as it had been before she reached Connie.
Hadrian was behind this.
She hurried across the street, but paused at the stoop. Taking a deep breath, she fortified herself, walked up the steps and briskly knocked on the door.
George answered, a surprised look on his wizened face.
“Tell him to stop. Filling that collection kettle won’t make me go away.”
A sad smile swept across his keeper’s lips. “What makes you think he wants you to go away?”
She shot a glance at the uppermost floor. Watched as the curtain fell back into place. She thought of all the Christmases he had spent in misery. Of the emptiness in his life and possibly in her own.
He had connected with her and she with him, only…
“He broke a promise to me, George.”
His keeper bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “He understands that, miss.”
She considered George’s statement and Hadrian’s actions. The promise that he would never leave her be and yet…
“I’m not on Santa duty tomorrow. I’d like to ask a favor of you.”
The bob of George’s head was coupled with a smile this time. “Ask away, miss.”
Connie fidgeted with the silverware on the table one last time before sitting down to await dusk and Hadrian’s rising.
She had asked George to make Hadrian’s favorite meal and she’d dressed in one of her special holiday outfits—a velvet gown the color of rich burgundy. She had been told the color went well with her olive skin and chestnut-colored hair. Plus, the neckline showed off some of her best attributes while thinning her rather ample hips.
She wanted to please him, although she had struggled with the reasons why for the past day. Everything and anything logical said she should hate him. He had taken her captive. Violated her body by feeding from her. Shattered her trust by breaking his vow.
Yet she was still here, eagerly waiting for him to rise. Possibly in more ways than one.
She was sure others might say it was the Stockholm Syndrome and that she had some kind of twisted connection to her captor. She had certainly considered that probability long and hard during the course of the night and day.
But the reality of it was, she had a good heart and that good heart had seen the sadness in his. She had recognized there was love and compassion buried by the losses he had suffered in his life.
The rustle of the bedcovers pulled her attention from her musings and to Hadrian as he stretched and then sat up in bed, his dark hair tousled from sleep. His body was as magnificent as she remembered, with not a mark on it from the stake she had put to his chest two days before.
He stilled as he saw her sitting there, then he dragged a shaky hand through the longish locks. “I didn’t expect you to return.”
“I didn’t, either.”
“Then why are you here?” He reached for something at the foot of the bed—a deep blue robe that he quickly pulled on, hiding his body from her sight. He rose and walked toward her then, tightly belting the robe as he did so.
She stood and motioned to the meal. “Tomorrow is my last day as Santa. After that I’ll be gone and I thought…”
What had she thought? she asked herself. Even now she still battled with herself over the reasons she was here. Unable to finish, she jerkily pointed at the small gift sitting on his dinner plate.
“I just wanted to bring you something. To make this Christmas less—”
“Hurtful?” He arched a brow and snagged the small, gaily wrapped box from the plate.
“Fate brought us together for a reason, Hadrian.”
He laughed harshly and toyed with the ribbon on the gift. “Fate has delighted in destroying more than one holiday for me, so what will it bring me this year?”
“Hope,” she said, finally realizing the reason she had come back. “Hope that this Christmas and the next will bring something different.”
He chuckled again, but there was a distinct tone in this laughter. Something lighter, as if he were actually taking her words to heart. “You are an interesting woman, Connie.”
She motioned to the gift he still held in his hands. “Open it.”
He juggled it back and forth in his hands once again before quickly ripping off the ribbon and wrapping. He hesitated at the lid of the box, shooting her a questioning glance before finally pulling it off.
A bright smile erupted on his face. He shook his head, laughed a little harder and more gleefully as he removed the water ball with the large Santa in the middle of the Christmas scene.
“It plays ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas,’” she said as she reached for the water ball, her hands touching his when she gave a twist on the winding mechanism. The
music spewed forth, tinkling little bells playing the tune.
“Thank you. It will always remind me of you.”
She knew his words were intended to set her free from his earlier threat that he would never let her be. She needed to reciprocate. Twining her fingers through his, she said, “We’ve yet to start celebrating the twelve days of Christmas.”
Hadrian pondered her statement and the gift. Not wanting to assume that either meant more than it did, he said, “Are all lawyers so obtuse—”
“We’re trained to be that way.”
“I’ll take that to mean I may see you again.”
She smiled and swung their joined hands together playfully. “You’ve still got one more day to make a donation.”
With his free hand he pulled out a chair for her at the table. “Doesn’t it count that I convinced all those people yesterday—”
“Definitely not. In fact, I feel guilty that I took their money,” she said as she sat down and pulled her hand from his so that she might serve him from one of the platters on the table.
“Cara, you can’t possibly be that honest. You’re a lawyer, after all.”
She chuckled and spooned some of the soup into his bowl. “Rule two is going to be no more lawyer jokes.”
After she had served herself some soup and met his gaze, he asked, “So what’s rule one?”
“No biting…unless I ask, of course.”
“I’m assuming the same rules apply to me?” He arched a brow and when she turned the full force of her gaze on him, desire flared to life.
“Do you want me to bite?” The quaver in her voice and the tremble in her hand as she brought her spoon to the bowl told him she was not unaffected by the possibility.
Determined to find out if it was good or bad, he said, “Would you bite me now?”
The hand holding the spoon rattled against the edge of the bowl, but then a wicked grin crept across her lips. “Wouldn’t you rather save the desserts for last?”
His erection jumped to life as he imagined being dessert for a change. “A wonderful suggestion, cara.”
He didn’t know whether it was their haste to get to the sweets or the absolutely splendid meal and company that made the night pass quickly. The dinner had been composed of many of his favorites, from the soup to the veal marsala with gnocchi in a creamy portobello mushroom sauce. They had shared the meal as lovers might, seated side by side, feeding each other on occasion. Leaning close so that their legs or arms brushed each other when they moved.
Now it was time for the sweets and George had opted for simplicity. Whole succulent ripe strawberries rested on a plate beside a smaller bowl with a balsamic vinegar reduction.
Connie eyed the combo with trepidation, but Hadrian picked up a berry, dipped it in the reduction and brought it to her lips. She took it into her mouth and then, wide-eyed, covered her mouth with her hand as she said, “Oh, my God, that’s delicious.”
He dipped another berry and popped it into his mouth. The flavors exploded there. The berries were sweet while the balsamic reduction was earthy and slightly tart. He was reaching for another when she stilled his hand and picked up a strawberry. She dipped it and shifted close, her one leg between his thighs, the other on the outside.
She bit into the berry and the juices stained her lips. She was about to lick them away when he said, “Don’t.”
With his gaze firmly settled on her mouth, he moved the final few inches to bring them close. Cradling the back of her head, he slowly licked the juices from her mouth and then slipped his tongue within.
The berries might have been sweet, but her mouth was even tastier, and the caress of her tongue against his, gentle and seeking, roused him like nothing else. He answered that caress by deepening the kiss, his lips savoring every contour of her mouth and accepting the thrust of her tongue.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily and trembling.
As Connie looked at him, she realized that she still held the strawberry. The juice from the berry and the balsamic reduction had left a smear of red-brown in the middle of his chest.
“I guess I should do something about this,” she said, tossing the berry onto a plate and grabbing a napkin.
He snagged her hand when it was halfway to his chest. She shot him a quick glance and noted the gleam in his dark eyes.
“Maybe a lick before you bite?”
A frisson of desire raced across her nerve endings, but then she leaned forward and parted the edges of the robe just a bit wider, exposing more of his chest.
His skin had an olive cast, but with a paleness she assumed came from being a vampire. The darker color of his skin matched the deep toffee color of his nipples.
Tentatively she ran the back of her hand across the hair of his chest, before moving it to one nipple, where she passed it back and forth in a lazy motion as she bent close to lick him. With a few slow swipes of her tongue, she removed the juices from his smooth, cool skin, but she didn’t stop there.
Moving her head, she slipped her mouth over the beaded tip of his nipple. She kissed the hard nub before running her tongue around the edge of it.
When she sat up, his body was tense. His erection rock hard and thrusting upward beneath the fabric of his velvet robe.
She reached out and wrapped her hand around that erection, stroked him through the soft velvet of the fabric. As she did so, she looked up at him and watched the play of emotions across his face.
Desire was plainly obvious, but behind that lurked other emotions. Gratitude. Happiness. Possibly a hint of admiration.
She wondered about the latter until he said, “You’re stronger than most vampires I know.”
Connie smiled and chuckled. “I’m Cuban. We can be stubborn.”
She was still stroking him and his body jumped a bit as she tightened the caress of her hand.
“Cara, you’re going to unman me.”
A strange choice of words in his case as she remembered how passion had brought forth the demon who hungered for blood and not love.
“I want the man to stay with me, Hadrian. I want it to be the man who shares my body.”
Hadrian recalled their passion of two nights ago—freely given and unrestrained. He nearly came then at the thought of her willing and eager beneath him, but he took a shaky breath to quell his desire. When he came, he wanted to be buried deep within her, sharing their mutual passion.
“I want to be a man for you, cara.” He raised his hand and laid it in the gap exposed by the neckline of her dress. The rich burgundy made her skin gleam with life. He stroked his fingers along the gap and she said, “I want you to touch me.”
He didn’t, keeping his hand away from where she wanted it most. “On one condition.”
“One?” she whispered and rubbed her lips against his with a breathy sigh.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Connie chuckled against his lips. “You’re determined, aren’t you?”
Hadrian smiled and slowly inched his hand beneath the fabric until he had palmed her breast. Need rippled across her body and with a soft moan she said, “Okay, you win. I’m the middle child.”
“That would explain your independent streak,” he said. He kissed her while he rubbed his thumb across her taut nipple.
“My older sister thinks I’m obstinate,” Connie somehow managed to say as his touch dragged another moan from her. She gazed down, watching the movement of his hand beneath the velvet fabric. Then she moved her own along the cloth covering his erection, dragging a groan from him.
“You’re so warm,” he said as he slipped her breast free of the dress, but he never stopped touching her.
She did the same, revealing him. Stroking her hand up and down the hard length of him.
“Tell me more,” he said and bent his head, licking the tip of her breast.
She cradled his head to her. “I work too much.”
“Why?” he murmured before he sucked her hard nipple in
to his mouth.
“Because until I met you, there was nothing interesting in my life.”
He bolted upright and cradled her cheek. “Cara, your fascination is—”
“Misplaced? Because I’m—”
“Alive and I can bring you nothing but death,” he said sadly and pulled away from her.
“You know that’s not true. You’ve brought me passion—”
“Vampire tricks, amore. Nothing more.”
He was lying. What they had shared the other night and again today had been real. Not a product of his vampire thrall, but she understood why he was pushing her away—he was still as uncertain as she about their mutual attraction.
Rearranging the front of her dress, she rose and said, “You know where I’ll be tomorrow.”
“Tormenting me again. Please go,” he said as he pulled his robe back on and jerked the belt tight, hiding himself beneath the protection of the fabric.
Gathering herself, she left, realizing as she did so that this might be the last time she saw him.
Pain erupted in the middle of her chest, but she drove it away.
He had given her his Christmas gift—freedom.
She’d be a fool not to accept it.
Chapter 14
“S í, mami. I will definitely be there,” she said, confirming to her mother yet again that she could make it to their family gathering on Christmas Eve.
She had done the unthinkable and skipped the last two, choosing to help out fellow colleagues on some cases that had demanded working through the holidays. She might have done the same this year only there hadn’t been any matters requiring immediate attention. In fact, it had promised to be such a slow week that she’d taken the week off.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like her family…she did. And she enjoyed seeing all her little nieces and nephews, only they were sometimes a painful reminder that work alone wasn’t enough to fulfill her. Her sisters somehow managed to have both careers and families.
She told herself it was no big deal that at thirty she hadn’t found someone to share her life with, but that big biological clock inside of her chimed away its impatient reminder more often than she cared to admit.
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