by Tally Adams
"You're very pretty," Emily disagreed politely.
"I wasn't fishing for compliments there," Lyric said with a chuckle. "I just mean it's not like he saw me and was dazzled by my exceptional beauty."
"He clearly sees something in you. William said he's always enjoyed women on a short-term-only basis before now."
"I have no intention of being another notch on his bedpost," Lyric said vehemently.
Emily eyed her. "You do understand the connection between a vampire and their human is permanent, right? Which means he isn't planning a brief liaison with you."
That stopped Lyric in her tracks. Paoli had been forthcoming about their connection but she hadn't had the chance to consider the details it implied. Permanent? "Is there any way to undo it?" she asked, thinking Emily could have information that might be useful.
"I don't know anything about it," Emily said. "We're still trying to figure out how the pack connections all work. Vampire bonds are way outside my area of expertise." At the fallen look on Lyric's face, she added, "Sorry," with a small wince.
They drove through the sunrise and into the morning, discussing random things. Emily was apparently like a mixture of mother and annoying little sister in the group, which Lyric found quite refreshing. She also discovered Emily was likable and easy to talk to. She joked about serious issues—like the current situation with Lycaon—and made them seem less frightening, somehow.
By the time they arrived in a motel parking lot in Louisiana, Lyric was so exhausted she almost decided to forego her luggage. She stood beside Emily at the open car trunk, staring at the assortment of matching bags with a speculative eye. How badly did she really need anything packed in there?
Emily laughed at her hesitation. "Come on," she said with a nudge to her shoulder. "The sooner you give in and grab it, the sooner you can get laid down."
Lyric gave a put-upon sigh and dragged her suitcase and overnight bag out with a thump of wheels on the pavement.
They got checked in and Emily handed her the small, triangular room key and hesitated just a fraction before dropping her car keys into her hand, as well.
Lyric understood the look Emily gave her. Emily was hoping it wasn't a mistake to give her a means of escape. Lyric could have put her mind at ease and informed her she'd decided it was safer to stay close to them for now, but they were being watched by the people working at the front desk and she was too tired to make the effort. Instead, she returned Emily's questioning smile with an understanding one and took both keys with a tired smile of thanks.
Outside, she said a sleepy good-day to Emily and William and trouped off toward her room at the end of the row.
The bus where Paoli stayed through the daylight was parked a little distance away from the cars and it caught her attention as she walked. Paoli was in there, resting; hiding from the sun until night descended.
With a little jolt, the image of coffins lining the inside of the bus appeared in her mind's eye. Bile seemed to rise in her throat, and she swallowed it back with a gulp. Did Paoli sleep in a coffin like movie vampires, or was that just a Hollywood thing? The very idea made her shudder. Somehow, she couldn't picture him doing something so macabre.
Deciding it was too disturbing to consider, she let herself into her room, toed off her shoes on her way to the bed, and flopped down face-first. Sleep claimed her almost immediately, blotting out all the questions and uncertainty floating through her mind.
Chapter Twelve
Lyric rose in the late afternoon, squinting against the sunlight that filtered through the curtains in her room and directly into her face. She grumbled at it—as if that might help—and tried to roll away, but the blasted light was relentless. Eventually, she gave up the fight with a muttered oath and threw her legs over the side of the bed. A glance at the cheap digital clock on the nightstand showed 3 pm, which meant she had plenty of time to get dressed and forage the area for food before nightfall.
She padded into the bathroom and got a quick shower. With her hair wrapped in a towel on the top of her head, she looked at her reflection and was glad to see her color had improved with sleep. The purple smudges beneath her eyes hadn't gone away completely, but they'd faded significantly. Her forehead, however, still showed a spectacular bruise of multiple shades of yellow and green. It was amazing she hadn't suffered a concussion from the impact, but then again, she'd always been rather hard-headed.
She brushed her teeth and did the best she could with make-up, but no amount of blending was going to conceal the bruise. Giving it up as a lost cause, she ran a brush through her hair and pulled on clothes; her favorite pair of jeans, a plain white tee-shirt and a heavy jacket. She stuffed her feet into her tennis shoes, grabbed her purse, and headed through the door in search of food. One good thing about highway exit motels; there was usually food close by. The small gas station across the overpass advertised chicken, and that was her chosen destination.
Outside, she paused and closed her eyes as a cool November breeze brushed her cheeks. It was a clear sky for this time of year and the temperature was cool but not yet cold. Few cars were parked in the small lot, this exit being somewhat obscure, which, she supposed, was perfect for their needs.
At the back of the lot, the big white bus sat quietly. She studied it with morbid fascination, her mind picturing all sorts of possibilities about what lay inside. It was plenty large enough to hold a couple of coffins. A shiver ran down her spine at the very idea, but she continued to stare, wondering. Finally deciding she didn't really want to know, she climbed into her car and headed down the road.
Standing in the little gas station, looking through a heated glass case at different food options, she felt strangely separate from the other people. It was as if she no longer belonged with them. Like in knowing what she now did, she'd crossed a bridge and saw everyone else from a distance. It was a strange sensation and left her feeling a little unnerved.
She got her food and a bottle of water and sat in the parking lot in her car, eating the terrible chicken strips and watching people come and go through her broken windshield. She'd never been a people watcher before, but now she found it fascinating to consider how little of reality each person she saw actually knew.
A concerning thought occurred to her. After the past two days, was it even possible for her to rejoin normal people? Even if she managed to find a way to break her connection to Paoli, could she live like everyone else, knowing what she knew? Or had her eyes been opened too much to ever be able to accept a mundane, normal life?
With no answers forthcoming, she motored her car back to the motel and parked in front of her room. The sun would be setting soon and there was no telling what the evening would bring. Paoli had said they were in a war, but he hadn't given her a lot of details about what that meant.
At the thought of Paoli, her gaze slid once again to the ridiculously noticeable bus. She got out of the car and closed her door, leaning against it while she continued to stare at the big red plus sign. It wouldn't hurt to just peek in the windows and satisfy her curiosity, would it? Not knowing was far worse, no matter what lay inside. Right? But what if he really did sleep in a coffin; or surrounded by dirt from his homeland? She was sure she'd seen that in a movie or something. That might be worse than not knowing.
She chewed her lip in indecision for a moment, then decided she was being ridiculous. It was time to put her imagination to rest on the matter, once and for all. With her mind made up, she approached the side like a woman on a mission. When she got nearer, however, she was disappointed to find the windows all had shades, and they were firmly pulled down. A quick lap around showed it to be true of all the windows. It was to be expected, she supposed, since the bus was designed to protect the inhabitants from sunlight.
In a last-ditch effort to snoop, she rounded to the front and tried jumping high enough to see through the windshield. When she still couldn't manage to get a peek inside, she quit jumping up and down like an idiot and decided she coul
d use the bumper as a step to bring her high enough to see in. With one foot on the metal, she was just about to hoist herself up when-
"What are you doing?" Emily asked from behind her, startling her so bad she lost her footing and crashed to the ground, knocking her chin off the hood with a dull thud.
She lay sprawled on the pavement, staring up at Emily's startled face in utter embarrassment at having been caught in such an undignified position. There was no excuse she could make, much as she wished she could think of one. "I was just curious," she said slowly, taking the hand Emily offered to pull her to her feet again.
"Curious about what?" Emily asked.
Lyric glanced at the bus and felt her cheeks going red. "I was just wondering if they use coffins in there," she admitted.
Instead of laughing at her stupidity, Emily smiled conspiratorially. "Do you want to go in and check it out for yourself? I have the key." And sure enough, she pulled a small set of keys from her pocket.
"Do you think they'd mind?" Lyric asked with suddenly nervous excitement.
"Probably," Emily answered truthfully. "But, so what? Come on." And she led Lyric to the door, both of them trying to stifle their giggles.
With a click, the door opened and swung out to reveal the darkened interior, lighted only by the small amount of waning sunlight filtering in behind them. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She stood in the darkness behind Emily, torn between nervousness and excitement as the interior slowly came into focus. Along the wall to their right, two reclining chairs were affixed to the wall with small desk-like tables attached. They were clearly where blood donors would recline while they made their contributions to the hungry vampire population. Beneath them and on the opposite side, as well, bench seats ran the length of the interior, reminding Lyric of the spaces aboard an RV where storage bins sat, disguised as furniture.
"That's where they stay during the day," Emily said, indicating the cabinet spaces beneath the cushions. "They each have one side of the bus, and they've designed them to be comfortable resting areas. There are latches on the inside for their safety; to prevent anyone from being able to open them while they...well, during daylight."
Lyric noticed the slight hesitation and gave Emily a curious look she deigned to respond to, instead pointing to one end of the bus where a desk sat behind a glass wall; a computer sitting on top. "That's where the intake is done for donors," she explained. "It's been set up exactly like any blood donation center, to include the use of a computer program to ask a bunch of questions. It's a dummy program, made as a mock-up to keep the workers from getting suspicious."
"They have workers who draw the blood?" Lyric asked in a whisper, one eye on the cabinets where she now knew two vampires rested. So help her, if one of them popped open suddenly like a jack-in-the-box, she'd flatten Emily on her way to the door.
"There's no need to whisper," Emily said at her usual volume. "You won't disturb them before sunset. And yes, when the blood stock gets low, Paoli will run an ad at local college campuses for student volunteer hours. They line up for the opportunity to practice their skills."
"Wow," Lyric breathed, truly impressed by how efficient it all seemed. And normal. Well, except for the two men lying entombed in camouflaged wooden boxes that suddenly reminded her very much of coffins; for all they looked like normal bench seats. She stared at the wood, visible beneath the dark green padding, wondering which one held Paoli, and wondering why she even cared.
"They'll be rising soon," Emily said with a mischievous grin. "We'd better get out of here before they do."
At those words, Lyric practically shoved Emily toward the door. She did not want to be there when they rose; either one of them. Watching a man climb out of what was now nothing more than a glorified casket to her mind, was not something she had the nerve to stomach.
Chapter Thirteen
Lyric was sitting at the small table in Emily's motel room when the men walked through the door. William had gone to Empusa's room to discuss the upcoming meeting, but now trooped in with the rest of them, all carrying on a discussion while they filed in and either sat in the two plush chairs across the room, or flopped carelessly across the king-sized bed. All except Paoli, at least, who had come through the door right behind William and stole her breath with the heat in his eyes when they caught her gaze and held it for a heartbeat.
She watched as he continued to cross the room and draped himself over one of the plush chairs to face them all with an interested but unconcerned expression. He didn't look at her now, but at William, who'd begun a recap of the goals of the meeting that she wasn't listening to at all. Her attention, instead, was riveted on Paoli, who cut a truly heart-stopping figure in his boots and jeans that fit him perfectly in all the right places. His hip-length jacket showed off the broadness of his shoulders and chest, even though it hid the definition in his arms. There was no doubt he was a perfect specimen of the male figure, she had to admit, if grudgingly.
Suddenly, his eyes shifted from William to her. She cursed herself and looked away quickly, but his knowing smile told her plain enough he knew she'd been staring at him. Determined not to look his way again, she turned her attention to the table in front of her, instead.
It was appalling, she decided. Even knowing the man spent his days lying in a wooden box—maybe not an honest-to-God coffin, but close enough—she still couldn't keep her eyes off him. And, she should be listening to William's speech. For heaven's sake, she was about to walk into a werewolf den where she might be the best thing on the menu, and all she could do was ogle the cut of Paoli's jeans. What if William had said something important and she hadn't caught it because her mind was somewhere it had no business being in the first place?
Furious with herself, she started listening to William just in time to hear him say, "And make sure you leave all phones in the car or at the motel. The wolves don't allow outsiders to bring any picture-capable technology into their den. Does anyone have any questions about tonight?"
She swallowed hard and asked, "Is there any concern about my presence?" praying it hadn't already been addressed while she wasn't paying attention. "I mean, does my being there cause any additional danger for anyone?" Like, her?
"Relax," Empusa said from his position on the bed. "I'm a werewolf and I haven't eaten you yet. You can't assume we're all snarling monsters just because of one bad experience. I've known Jonathon for a long time. He's a good man and he keeps his wolves in line."
"What if one of his wolves becomes a snarling monster?" she asked.
Empusa gave a nonchalant shrug and said, "Then he kills them," like it was nothing at all.
Lyric stared at him, her breath seeming to stop. "Are you serious?"
"We don't need to get into all the ugliness right now," Paoli cut in warningly to Empusa. He leaned forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees and turned his attention back to Lyric. "You're perfectly safe in this meeting, even surrounded by werewolves," he assured her.
"How can you be so sure?" she asked with a frown.
"Because you're mine," he said simply. "And precious few immortals would touch what was mine."
Lyric's eyes narrowed, but Paoli didn't notice the warning sign because Sekhmet distracted his attention with more conversation about the coming meeting. Voices continued to surround her as discussion went on and preparations were made, but it all became meaningless babble again. She sat there, filled with righteous indignation, staring at Paoli in utter disbelief.
High dudgeon carried her through the door when William announced they all needed to ensure they were ready to go. She stormed down the walkway to her own room and entered without once looking back; which was her mistake, since Paoli followed her right through the door. She turned with every intention of slamming the door behind her, and instead bumped into the wide expanse of his chest.
She gasped and stumbled back a step, her furious gaze rising to the hooded expression on his face. "You're angry with me," he said, push
ing the door closed with a foot.
"I thought vampires couldn't enter without being invited," she said.
Paoli inclined his head. "That's true of a home. This motel is not your home, so it doesn't apply," he explained, still watching her. "What has you so angry?"
The look of honest bewilderment on his face was the last straw. Not only had he spoken about her like she was his possession, he didn't even realize how insulting that was. "I am not yours!" she spat. "I am my own personal person, and I'll thank you to stop announcing you own me."
Paoli was surprised to see her this angry over something so minor, but he carefully kept his face blank. He leaned back against the door, crossed his ankles and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. "I beg to differ," he said calmly.
"Well, beg all you like! It doesn't change the fact," she said sarcastically, "that I am not yours!"
Paoli took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Whether you like it or not, Lyric," he said, his voice dropping to a deceptively quiet volume and his eyes flashing. "You are mine. No one but you questions that."
She recognized the anger in his tone but continued to glare at him anyway. "No matter your thoughts on the subject," she informed him haughtily, "I belong to no one. Least of all, you."
Paoli clenched his jaw in aggravation and pushed off the door to advance on her. "My blood flows in your veins, Lyric," he growled.
She bared her teeth at him and stood her ground. "Maybe," she returned in a furious hiss. "But so does mine, you arrogant ass."
He didn't stop coming toward her until their noses were almost touching, both glaring daggers at one another. "You don't scare me," she said, still not backing down.
Paoli could tell she meant it. Her scent seemed to surround him; the sweet, promising smell of her. It was like a whole bouquet of emotions. Just as she claimed, there was no fear in the mix. There was plenty of anger, though; and then the unmistakable scent of desire registered in his mind and changed his mood drastically.
