“Would that be so bad?” Alex asked. “Staying here with me?”
“No, it’s not that. I just miss my own house. My own bed. Being able to come and go as I please.”
“Yeah. I miss that, too.” Dropping onto the sofa, he tugged on her hand and pulled her down beside him. “Have you had dinner?”
“I made a sandwich a while ago.”
His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing in her throat. “Rylee, let me taste you.”
“What?”
“Just one little taste.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain it. I won’t hurt you. I’m told it’s pleasant.”
“Pleasant!” she exclaimed. “Whoever told you that?”
“The women who frequent Costain’s club like it. That’s why they go there.”
She stared at him. “You’re telling me there are women who ask vampires to bite them?”
“Yeah.”
She ran her fingertips along the side of her neck, trying to imagine what it would be like to feel his fangs at her throat. “Are you sure it won’t hurt?”
“I’m sure.”
“And you’ll only take a little?”
“I promise.”
Suddenly curious, she brushed her hair away from her neck and closed her eyes. “Remember, just a little.”
Taking a firm hold on his self-control, Alex drew her into his arms and bit her, ever so gently. Her blood was warm and rich and sweet on his tongue. More satisfying than anything he’d ever known. The temptation to take a little more was almost over-powering, but he’d promised and so, reluctantly, he lifted his head.
Rylee blinked at him. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you were going to bite me.”
He frowned at her. “I did.”
“But…it felt wonderful.” She lifted her hand to her neck. The skin felt warm beneath her fingertips. “More than wonderful. And sort of…” She felt her cheeks grow hot.
“Sort of sensual?” he said, smiling.
She nodded. And then she frowned. “Did you ever bite any of those women?”
Alex rubbed his hand over his jaw, wondering if he should tell her the truth. But he wanted no lies between them. “A couple of times, while we were apart. But they weren’t as sweet as you.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, it’s the truth.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes, then laughed. “This is the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had. Will you bite me again?”
“As often as you like,” he murmured huskily, and drew her gently into his embrace.
Rylee’s days fell into a routine of sorts. As time passed, she found herself going to bed later, sleeping later. One night, she complained to Alex that she was bored and the next afternoon, she found a laptop sitting on a new desk.
It was like a gateway to the world. She spent the rest of the day setting it up, reading her email, watching ridiculous cat videos on YouTube, checking her Facebook and Twitter accounts. She contacted a few clients to explain an emergency had called her away.
After an early dinner, she returned to the computer.
She smiled at Alex when he appeared beside her. “This was so sweet of you. Where did you get it?”
“From La Mort Rouge.”
“Does Rhys know you took it?”
Alex shrugged. “Megan’s come home and no one’s seen him for a couple of days. He won’t it, miss, though. He bought a new one a few weeks ago.” He jerked his chin toward the screen. “Any chance I can woo you away from cat videos?”
Grinning, she shut down the laptop. “What did you have in mind?”
“A few hours away from here.”
“I’d love some more ice cream.”
Alex’s gaze moved to her lips. “Buy chocolate this time.”
He took her to a Cold Stone Creamery in Boston. Rylee looked over the menu and ordered a dark chocolate cone. Carrying it to one of the small tables, she sat down and took a taste.
“Good?” Alex asked.
“Very.” She grinned at him. “Thinking about the vanilla you ate?”
“Are you talking about that drop I licked off your lips? I’d hardly call that eating.”
“Would you like some chocolate?”
When he nodded, she lifted her spoon and smeared a bit of ice cream across her mouth, then leaned toward him.
Alex met her half-way, then slowly ran his tongue across her lips. “I could get used to this.”
She grinned at him, then tilted her head to the side. “Why did we really come to Boston?”
“I need to see my folks,” he said, with a sigh. “I chickened out when we were at the house the last time, but I need to let them know what’s happened and that I’m all right.” His gaze searched hers. “Will you go with me?”
“Well, sure, if you want me to.”
Rylee finished her cone and tossed her napkin in the trash. “Why have you waited so long to see your mom and dad?” she asked as they left the shop.
“I needed to feel like I was in control. That’s why I want you with me. I don’t know how to explain it, except that being with you centers me, somehow, makes me feel more like my old self, less like some blood-thirsty monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Alex.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then why do I want to taste you all the time?”
“All the time?”
“Pretty much.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Oddly enough, it didn’t frighten her.
His parents’ house was only a few blocks from the mall. He paused on the porch and took several deep breaths. Then, holding tightly to Rylee’s hand, he knocked on the door.
At the sound of footsteps, Rylee murmured, “They love you, Alex. It will be all right.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on the door.
“Alex!” His mother threw her arms around him. “Noah,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s Alex.”
Releasing him, she said, “Come on in. I’m so glad to see you. It’s been too long. And who’s this lovely young lady?”
“Mom, this is my friend, Rylee. Rylee, my mother, Irene McDonnell. And this is my dad, Noah,” he said as his father hurried into the room.
“So pleased to meet you, Rylee,” Irene said. “Please, come in and make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Perhaps a piece of cake?” She smiled at Alex. “It’s your favorite.”
“Not right now, Mom.” Alex sat on the sofa and pulled Rylee down beside him, his hand still holding hers.
“Rylee?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. O’Donnell. We just came from Cold Stone.”
“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” Irene said. Taking the chair beside her husband, she beamed at her son.
“We put the house up for sale last week,” Noah said. “We’ve already had three offers on it. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
Alex’s gaze slid away from his father’s. “No. I found the vampire who…” He couldn’t say the words. “Or rather, she found me.”
Noah regarded Alex through narrowed eyes.
Irene gripped her husband’s arm as if she knew what was coming.
“Go on,” Noah said.
“Do I have to say it?” Alex asked, his voice raw.
“Oh, Alex,” Irene murmured, and burst into tears.
Rising, Alex pulled Rylee to her feet.
“Don’t go!” Irene dashed the tears from her eyes. “It…it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re still our boy,” Noah said, his voice gruff and thick with pain. “Just like Daisy’s still our girl. Don’t let this keep you away from us, son. You and your sister are all we’ve got left.”
Rylee stepped back as Alex’s parents both stood, put their arms around Alex, and held him tight.
“I knew something was wrong when you refused your Ma’s devil’s food
cake,” Noah said, blinking rapidly. “We love you, son. Nothing else matters.”
Rylee smiled as she blinked back tears of her own.
“You’re very quiet tonight,” Rylee remarked. They had returned to the penthouse over an hour ago and in that time, he hadn’t said more than a couple of words. Kicking off her shoes, she leaned back on the sofa. “I thought your visit went well.”
“Yeah. I guess I’m just feeling a little homesick.”
“I think that’s normal, don’t you?”
“I guess so, but it made me remember what it was like before Brandon died, before Daisy was turned. We had a good life. Now I look at my folks and the light’s gone out of their eyes. I think about Paula…and the baby. No matter how I look at it, it’s my fault they’re dead.”
“Oh, Alex.” She scooted closer to him and clasped one of his hands in both of hers. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t know what the repercussions would be when you killed Magdalena’s lover. Nor is it your fault that Daisy became a vampire. Life happens. You can’t control it. You just have to make the best of it.”
“You’re the best of it,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “What you said is true, I guess. But none of it would have happened if my family had been in another line of work.”
“Hindsight is a wonderful thing. If I hadn’t been taking pictures on the beach the night we met…” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “Was it chance? Or Fate?”
“Whatever it was, I’m glad you were there.” His gaze searched hers. “In spite of everything that’s happened, I hope you are, too.”
“I am,” she said. “And I’ll be even happier when this business with Magdalena is over.”
That night, after Rylee had gone to bed, Alex paced the floor. He knew she was right, that what had happened to Paula and the baby wasn’t his fault. That lay with Magdalena. And yet the guilt was still there. If he hadn’t been a hunter…if he hadn’t killed Tietjen…if he hadn’t married Paula in the first place. That was what bothered him the most. Even knowing she hadn’t loved him either didn’t ease his guilt.
He blew out a sigh. They had been two lost souls seeking comfort.
Maybe they’d been doomed from the start.
CHAPTER 30
Another week passed with no new deaths and no indication that Magdalena was still in town. Sitting at the bar in La Mort Rouge, Alex wondered if that was a good sign, or if Magdalena was just biding her time, putting them all at ease before she struck again.
Rylee was itching to go home. Just that evening, she had brought the subject up again. Not that Alex could blame her. Even though he’d taken her out as often as he could—to dinner, to movies, dancing—he had never really relaxed, always looking over his shoulder, always worried that Magdalena was out there, like a snake in the grass, just waiting to strike.
He looked up as Rhys suddenly appeared behind the bar. “We haven’t seen much of you since Megan got home,” Alex remarked.
“Been making up for lost time. You doing okay?”
“Rylee wants to go home.”
Rhys shrugged one shoulder. “It’s her call.”
“Have you heard anything about Magdalena? Has she left town?”
“Beats the hell out of me. If she’s still here, no one’s seen her.”
“I can’t believe she just up and left.”
Rhys shrugged. “Maybe she’s busy recruiting a new minion since her old one left. Or maybe she’s found a lair somewhere else now that the old one burned down.”
“She had a minion?”
“Yeah. An Elf.”
Alex blinked at him. “An elf?”
“Sylvi.”
Alex frowned. “Rupert’s Sylvi?”
“One and the same. She came here the night after Magdalena’s lair went up in smoke. Seems Magdalena went on a killing spree and left her lair littered with bodies. Apparently, it was the last straw for Sylvi and she split.”
Alex plowed his fingers through his hair. An Elf. Shades of “The Hobbit.” Maybe there were Orcs and Wizards, too. “Do you think I should let Rylee go home?”
“That’s up to you. And her.”
“Fat lot of help you are.”
Rhys shrugged. “As long as she stays inside after dark, and doesn’t open the door for strangers, she might be all right. Of course, if Magdalena mesmerizes some poor guy and sends him after Rylee, all bets are off.”
Alex swore under his breath. Knowing the risks, how could he let her go back to her place?
“It’s Rylee’s life. Maybe you should let her decide what she wants to do. I’m guessing if she decides to leave, you’ll be going with her.”
“Damn right!”
“I’ll contact the Council. Ask them to sniff around and see if they’ve heard anything about Magdalena’s whereabouts. Maybe someone’s seen her in the last few days.”
Because Rylee was determined to go home, Alex called a company that installed security screen doors and protective bars on windows. Next, he mounted motion cameras inside and outside the house, as well as exterior lights that automatically came on when the sun went down.
Rylee frowned when she saw the additions two weeks later. “I feel like I’m living in a prison,” she muttered.
“It’s this or the penthouse,” Alex said. “And if you’re thinking of going back to work, remember you’ll still be vulnerable during the day.”
“I know, but if you’ll be my bodyguard, I can still shoot night weddings, receptions, and birthday parties.”
“Count on it.” Since he was the one who had put her life in danger, it was the least he could do.
Rylee moved back into her house the next night. If she kept her curtains closed, she could ignore the bars and pretend everything was normal. Alex had agreed to stay with her. He moved some of his clothes into the guest room closet and parked the Jag in the garage next to her Mazda.
He accompanied her to the store later that night, and while she bought meat and produce, he bought several bottles of vintage wine.
In the days that followed, Rylee booked several night weddings and a couple of evening birthday parties. She spent her days editing digital photos and uploading proofs to the Internet, as well as working on the Summerville catalogue, and gradually her life fell back into a familiar pattern.
In many ways, it was almost like being married—except that Alex slept on the floor in the guest room closet. He sought his rest long after she had gone to bed, and rose an hour or so before sunset, which was something new. When she asked about the change in his resting habits, he said it had something to do with being sired by Rhys. She didn’t quite understand it, but she knew Costain could be awake during the day. She wondered if it had more to do with the strength of one’s preternatural power than how long they’d been a vampire.
Alex left to go hunting while she ate dinner, leaving them free to spend the rest of the evening together. It wasn’t perfect, Rylee thought, and yet it worked for them.
She had just put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher when he came up behind her.
Sliding his arms around her waist, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“I have a wedding at the Presbyterian Church in North Hollywood at seven, but I need to be there by six.”
“You’d better get a move on then. It’s almost that now.”
“I’m ready. I just have to comb my hair, brush my teeth, and find my shoes.”
Built of white brick, it was a lovely old church set amid a wide swath of green lawn and flanked by ancient oaks.
Alex dropped Rylee off at the side door before looking for a place to park the car. After locking the Jag, he dissolved into mist, drifted into the church, and then floated near the ceiling in the back. Rylee, he knew, was taking last-minute pictures of the bride.
The ceremony began at five after seven. Rylee stood behind a pillar—out of sight of most of the guests—where she could take photos, mostly unobserv
ed.
There were more pictures after the ceremony, of course—with the bride and groom, her family, his family, ad nauseum. And still more photos at the reception that followed.
Alex materialized towards the end of the evening, just after the bride and groom departed, to help Rylee with the cameras. “How’d it go? Did you get all the pictures you needed?”
“And more,” she said, following him out to the car.
“Great.” He unlocked the passenger door and stowed her gear in the back seat. He’d just opened the driver’s side door when Magdalena appeared beside him. In a blur of movement, he tossed the keys to Rylee, yelled, “Get out of here!” and lunged at Magdalena, his hands reaching for her throat.
Rylee clambered into the driver’s seat, shoved the key in the ignition and stomped on the gas. Careening down the street, she ignored the speed limit and raced through red lights until she was a safe distance away, then pulled to the curb and looked for directions to La Mort Rouge. She was on the road again in less than a minute, hoping and praying that Rhys would be at the club.
She skidded to a halt in the parking lot, jerked the keys from the ignition, sprang out of the Jag and pounded on the door.
It was opened by a tall, stern-faced man who took one look at her frantic expression and let her in without a word.
She found Rhys sitting at the bar, playing cards with the bartender and a statuesque woman with curly brown hair.
He stood when he saw her. “What’s happened?”
Breathless, she started to tell him about Magdalena.
But he was already gone.
Alex forgot Magdalena was a woman, forgot that she was older and supposedly stronger than he was. He stared at her as his fingers tightened around her throat, but all he saw was Paula sprawled across their bed, her eyes empty in death, her body awash in her own blood.
He let out a cry of rage when Magdalena raked her nails down his cheek and his neck, shrieking her hatred all the while. Fighting her was like fighting a wild animal, but, to his surprise, he knew he was winning. He might have been nothing but a puny mortal the first time she’d attacked him, but, thanks to Costain’s ancient blood, he was almost her equal now.
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