“Holy sweet Jesus,” Toni said.
Pretty much. Her friend had always had a way with words.
Alessandra and Toni had been sitting on their porch together, waiting for Kenton to arrive. Although Toni had questioned the move, arguing that it might seem too eager, Alessandra had waved off her concern. So they were both there to see him pull up in a slick, black car that reeked of money. Something that stood out like a sore thumb in a small town where people rarely drove.
“Good evening, Toni,” he said, walking up the cobbled pathway. “Alessandra.”
He managed to make her name sound like a chocolate-covered strawberry. Sweet and sinful.
Breathe. Breathe.
“Kenton.”
She had no idea where they were going, so she’d opted for skinny jeans and wedges, the look somewhere in between casual and high-end casual. Luckily, Kenton was similarly dressed, his signature sport coat nowhere to be seen. In its place, he wore a deep-blue button-down paired with dark jeans and loafers. Though more laid-back than his usual look, it nonetheless retained that distinctive GQ look she’d come to appreciate.
A bit out of place here in Stone Haven?
Perhaps.
But she’d be hard-pressed to find any woman who cared.
“I wasn’t sure where we were going.”
That look he gave her . . . Normally, Alessandra would be appalled by that kind of look, which made her feel as if she were being undressed right on her front porch, but she felt invigorated instead.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Good luck with this one,” Toni whispered before excusing herself.
She was no help.
“I love surprises,” she said. He reached for her hand, and despite a momentary confusion, she gave it to him. Kenton lifted it up and actually kissed it, his lips warm, the touch much too brief.
“I fear we need to start over.”
She had no words.
“I hear The Lakehouse is a passably good restaurant?”
Passably good? It was the best around for miles. Her mother and brother had taken her there once, back when she first moved to town. It had been a celebration dinner. Despite enjoying themselves, they hadn’t gone back. For a small town, Stone Haven had plenty of good restaurants of its own, and the twenty-minute drive and expense just never seemed like a good idea.
“It’s very good,” she stammered, still feeling the imprint of his lips on her hand. Who did that in this day and age? And of course he opened the car door for her too. “And not at all stuffy,” she added.
Kenton cocked his head as he circled around to the driver’s seat. “Stuffy?”
She waited until he was seated next to her to answer. “The chef is well-known, and the prices are expensive, but somehow it pulls off a . . . I don’t know . . . lakehouse kind of feel.”
He laughed easily, and Alessandra began to relax.
“A good thing,” he said, starting the car, “given its name.”
They spent the twenty-minute drive talking about local restaurants and their favorite foods. She could almost forget the million questions she was planning to ask him that night.
Almost.
But some would certainly spoil the moment, so they could wait.
“You can park across the street. There.”
They made their way from the parking lot toward The Lakehouse, aptly named for its position on the shore of the third largest man-made lake in Pennsylvania. As they made their approach on foot, she could see the restaurant’s back deck, a glowing beacon with white fairy lights strung from every corner. As they came around the side of the building, torches and heaters cast a soft glow on diners lucky enough to nab a lake view. There were only four tables on the very edge of the deck. The bulk of the seating was inside.
“When we were here last time, I asked our waitress why the deck hadn’t been rebuilt. You’d think more people would want that view.”
When they arrived at the hostess stand just outside the restaurant, Kenton gave the woman his name.
“What did she say?”
“That building codes prevented them from building a new one. And they were happy to be only one of two restaurants located directly on the lake. Apparently no one else has been allowed to build on it since the 1950s.”
“Right this way,” the hostess said.
She led them out onto the deck, guiding them past a handful of diners. To Alessandra’s surprise, she seated them at an empty table right along the edge of the deck. And it wasn’t just any table; it was the only one with a completely unobstructed view of the lake beyond them.
“How lucky is this?” she said, sitting.
Kenton didn’t answer.
“Can you believe this view?”
Boats with their lights on dotted the otherwise dark abyss beyond.
“I do.”
But he wasn’t staring out at the lake or marveling at how dark it was beyond the dock. He was looking at her with a sharp-eyed intensity that made her shiver.
“I should have told you we’d be sitting outside,” he said.
She’d worn long sleeves and wasn’t cold at all. But Alessandra refrained from telling him that small fact. She didn’t need to give him more power over her.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Welcome to The Lakehouse.” A waitress appeared out of nowhere. “Have you been here before?”
“Yes, I have. He hasn’t.”
He didn’t even glance at the waitress. Unfortunately, a candle in the center of their table illuminated his ice-blue eyes.
Oh sweet Jesus.
“Can I get you guys a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll have a glass of the Pinot Noir.”
“Geneva . . . sorry, gin and tonic please.”
The young waitress walked away without giving them menus. But it didn’t appear as if Kenton cared—he was too busy staring at her.
“You have to stop doing that.”
He feigned ignorance. “Doing what?”
Uh-huh.
“Looking at me as if I’m the first course.”
He leaned back, but he didn’t listen. If anything, he ramped it up a notch.
“Not the first course, love. But definitely the last.”
“Says who?” she rebounded, trying not to show him his effect on her.
“I do.”
Oh, that smile could deflower a virgin on sight.
She had to stay strong.
“Kenton, do you have any idea how bizarre the last few days have been? First, Lawrence told me you were out to get me, then you told me the opposite was true, and oh, by the way, I’m descended from some ancient bloodline of superheroes on my deadbeat dad’s side of the family. Then, before I can even start to process all of that, you tell me I’m not in danger from Lawrence after all. And here you are, looking at me with those eyes that can’t be real, and . . .”
What the hell . . . might as well just go for it.
“. . . and suddenly the only thing I can think about is how your hands felt on my body this morning when I was supposed to be getting a massage.”
Expelling a deep breath, she nearly tore the wine from the hands of the waitress, who had just appeared at their table.
“We would like menus please,” Kenton said, his tone firm.
Alessandra took a good long sip of her wine, noticing for the first time that the flavor really did contain hints of raspberry and licorice. Well, at least her newly honed senses would make her a hit at wine tasting parties.
Kenton’s only response to her outburst was to pair his ongoing stare with a sly smile.
Finally, he shrugged. “Lawrence Derrickson isn’t out to get you. He’s a nice guy.”
“But I thought you hated him?”
He shrugged. “I do. But to others, he is the epitome of a ‘nice guy.’ He’s here to protect you, not to harm you.”
Add that to the ever-growing list of things that confused the living daylights out of h
er.
“So you’re saying he came all the way from—” she paused, realizing she didn’t know, “—wherever he’s from—”
“Scotland.”
“Nice. Scotland. He has no more of an accent than you do. So you’re saying that he came to Stone Haven because of me, but he’s no threat. Now I get everything.”
Kenton sighed as the waitress placed two menus on their table. “I understand this is confusing, Alessandra, but you have to understand. There have been some—” he cleared his throat, “—Cheld, who have not handled their new abilities well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some . . . have become a threat. All Cheld develop their abilities differently. Some become quite . . . extreme. They use their newfound powers for less than admirable reasons.”
“But I still don’t understand—”
“We are not a danger to you, Alessandra. You have my word.”
All humor had left his expression. She’d never seen him so serious. Sipping her wine, Alessandra considered what he’d told her. What it all might mean.
“And I would not call your ancestors ‘superheroes,’” Kenton added.
“Oh? Then what would you call them?”
He seemed to struggle for an answer.
“My relationship with the Cheld is . . . complicated.” Leaning forward in his seat, he crossed his hands over each other and looked her in the eye. “You see. The Cheld killed my father.”
Her eyes widened.
“As I said, some of them become dangerous. After my father’s death, my mother cared for nothing but vengeance. She hated the Cheld for what they had done—”
“And instilled that hatred in you.”
“When they killed her too—”
“Oh my God, Kenton,” she blurted out. “You must hate me.”
He reached across the table and captured her hand, the one not gripping the stem of her wine glass.
“No. I do not hate you.”
She did not pull away. His touch felt like the only thing anchoring her to reality.
“Will I become a murderer too?”
It was surely the strangest question she’d ever asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Kenton?”
“I don’t know.”
She tried to pull her hand back, but he wouldn’t let her.
“What the hell . . .” She’d expected a flat-out no. That was the answer she’d wanted, needed. A murderer? Her? No way. Absolutely no way. And yet he hadn’t denied it.
“I will not lie to you,” he insisted. “I care for you.”
“Why? You hardly know me.” Part of her wanted to run. To get up out of that chair and get the hell away from this place.
“Listen to me, love.”
Whether it was the squeeze of his hand or his use of the word “love”—or hell, maybe just the way he was looking at her right now—she stayed put.
“I will be here with you, for all of it.”
“All of it?”
“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss your bloodline, and the . . . unique qualities that come along with your ancestry.”
Deep breaths.
Why hadn’t she ever learned to meditate?
“But we’ve something more important to discuss over dinner.”
A dinner that would never come because every time the waitress tried approaching them, Kenton sent her away with his intense gaze.
“What’s that?” she managed, taking a slow sip of her wine. What could possibly be more important than the possibility that her blood would turn against her and she’d unwittingly become the next Jack the Ripper?
“You said you didn’t get a massage this morning.” He lowered his voice. “It would seem I remember this morning a bit differently.”
That was what he wanted to discuss?
“Do you now?” Suddenly she was acutely aware of the fact that he still held her hand, and that he’d started rubbing slow circles on her palm with his thumb.
“I do.” He increased the pressure, ever so slightly. “Although I will agree with you on one point.”
He moved his ministrations to her wrist.
“What’s that?” she said, her voice sounding breathy.
“I’ve thought of very little today other than ruing the fact I never ventured under that damn blanket.”
And that was when she completely lost it.
Chapter 13
Kenton knew that look well.
Over the centuries, he’d seen it on plenty of occasions. His response had always depended on whether or not the woman was human. Kenton’s interactions with humans were typically brief. Out of necessity. If he needed to feed directly from a human, he would do so from the wrist, leaving her in a fog brought on by the healing of his bite. By the next day, she would forget the entire encounter.
Though his brothers had spoken of the sensual pleasure of being with a woman and drinking from her, the thought had always appalled him. So why couldn’t he banish the desire to be inside Alessandra while he sank his teeth into her neck? It simply wouldn’t go away.
Even if she did not become a vampire hunter . . . even if the Derricksons were right in their insistence the Cheld could remain harmless after gaining their abilities, he could absolutely not be with this woman.
But the idea of running his hands over every inch of her body . . . of tasting her, of making love to her . . . It was more tempting than the harem he’d been offered in the eighteenth century. He’d turned it down, knowing his mother would not have approved, and insisted the women be provided for.
But he wasn’t sure he could turn Alessandra down.
Something about this woman, her innate sensuality and strength and boldness, spoke to him in a way no woman ever had.
This was absolute madness.
“Shall we order?” Alessandra asked.
The waitress’s timely return took his mind off her, albeit briefly. Even two drinks and a meal later, he was still struggling to keep up his end of the conversation. In silent agreement, they’d shifted to easier topics. Her new job at the university, their shared love of history, and even the book Alessandra was currently reading. But Kenton couldn’t stop thinking of how much of a mistake it had been to tempt himself this way.
He wouldn’t kill her unless she became a threat. But he also could not give in to a desire that could be a threat to his entire family. Instead, he would watch her, study her every development.
Then why am I tormenting both of us this way? Why not just watch her from afar?
“How was your pasta?” she asked.
Though he ate, and drank, and could derive pleasure from both, Kenton did not need it. His true nourishment came from a different source. But he could still appreciate good food, and this quaint lakeside restaurant in the middle of nowhere could compete with some of his favorites in the world.
“Unbelievable.”
He already knew she’d enjoyed her meal too. Like everything she did, Alessandra ate with gusto. Quick to frown, and to smile, she tore into life like a knight practicing on a pele—fully committed and unrelenting. So when she shifted the subject back to murder, he had to smile. Briefly.
“So back to this murdering thing,” she said, as if it were a natural segue. “I just don’t understand exactly what would make me, or my ancestors, do such a thing. Surely these abilities could be used for something, I don’t know, more productive than murder?”
He could not tell her everything without revealing himself, something he was not yet ready to do. With any luck, two weeks would be long enough to gauge whether she would become a threat.
And if she does? Will you still let her, and her family, walk away?
He didn’t know how to answer that, so instead he said, “Your history is long, and complicated.”
She swept a strand of stray hair behind her ear. That small gesture was what made him change his mind. As much as he told himself the small taste of Alessandra he’d had was enough, and that
his goal was simply to assess her as a threat and test the Derricksons’ theories on the Cheld, Kenton had been alive for long enough to know when he was attempting to fool himself.
He was the epitome of control and would exercise the same self-restraint as he had that morning. If he wanted to.
And he no longer cared to do so.
“I have all night to listen,” she said.
They were finished here. Kenton mentally tabulated the bill, doubled it, and tucked the necessary amount of cash under his plate.
“No.” He stood. “You do not.”
Confused, she stood with him. Then, taking the arm he offered, Alessandra allowed Kenton to lead her away from the front of the restaurant, to the side steps leading instead to the docks below.
Ushering her in front of him, Kenton followed Alessandra down the stairs.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, Kenton spun her toward him. Then, in full view of the diners above, should they glance down and see them, he captured her lips with his own. He kissed her so thoroughly that when Alessandra tore away from him, she was quite literally out of breath.
“Hey”—she looked up—“they can see us.”
“Then let them look.”
But when he moved to kiss her again, Alessandra pulled away and led him under the deck. Here, they could see nothing but slits of light from above and the still-distant glow of boats in the distance. The gentle lapping of water against the docked pontoon boats and speeders echoed not far from them.
But the loudest sound of all, to his sensitive ears, was that of Alessandra’s breathing. For every step she took backward, Kenton took a bigger one forward. And when the wall of the restaurant’s basement finally met his beautiful companion’s back, leaving her with nowhere left to go, he took one final step, planting his hands on both sides of her head.
The concrete blocks grated beneath his hands as he watched Alessandra’s pupils widen, easy for him to see, even in the dark. They both knew this would not end with a mere kiss, and he waited for her acquiescence.
“It would seem you’re trapped, love.”
“I wasn’t trying to get away.”
He kissed her, hard.
Dropping his hands to her waist, Kenton tugged her closer, fitting their bodies together with a skill only a few hundred years could provide. That his heart raced was a testament to the power she held over him.
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