About a Vampire (4 page)

“No, we get our blood delivered now.”

That startled her enough to draw her full attention. “Delivered? Like pizza?”

“Pretty much,” Justin admitted on a laugh. “We have our own blood banks and whatnot.”

“ 'We'?” she queried.

“There are a lot of us. Not like millions or anything,” he added quickly. “We try to keep our numbers low. We wouldn't want to outgrow our food source.”

“ 'Food source'?” she queried carefully. “You mean ­people?”

“Mortals, yes. We even have laws and rules to ensure we don't turn too many.”

“Laws?” she asked with feigned interest, managing another sliding sideways step. “What kind of laws?”

“Well, we're only allowed to have one child every hundred years, and we can turn only one mortal in a lifetime.” His expression turned serious and he said, “Most save it to turn their life mate.”

Holly frowned over the having-­one-­child-­every-­hundred-­years bit, which seemed to suggest he believed he would live hundreds of years after all, but then the last bit stuck in her mind and she asked, “Life mate?”

“It's the one mortal or immortal we cannot read or control, and who cannot read or control us.”

“You can read and control mortals?” she asked dubiously.

Justin nodded. “We all can. Immortals can control every mortal, except for the crazy or their life mates. It's how we recognize our life mate. That inability to read or control them is why they can be a proper life mate, the one we can live happily with for our very long life.”

Holly shifted another step to the side, alarm beginning to creep up her spine as she absorbed what he was saying. Swallowing, she said, “And you used your turn on me.”

He nodded solemnly. “You're the one, Holly. You are my life mate.”

“Oh wow,” she said weakly and thought,
You poor, crazy, deluded sap.
She'd started out thinking he was harmless enough and had helped her when she lay unconscious and helpless. She'd sort of convinced herself, if only subconsciously, that he wasn't a danger to anyone and not to bring the authorities down on him. But he'd built a whole vampire world in his mind, with blood deliveries and supposed other vampires wandering around. More important, he'd developed an unhealthy fixation on her as his “life mate” . . . and all without exchanging a word or even a smile with her. The guy was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and this was getting pretty creepy. She was starting to have visions of being locked in a cellar and forced to sleep in a coffin, maybe even raped in that coffin by this man who had decided she was “the one.” He needed help. And she needed to get away from him as quickly as she could.

“I know it's a lot to take in,” Justin said sympathetically. “But it's really all a good thing. Being a life mate is like . . .” He struggled briefly, obviously looking for something to compare it to and then finished with, “Well, it's like winning the lotto or something.”

That made her jerk her head toward him with a start. “The lotto?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “It's all good. You'll never age, never get sick, never have to go to a dentist again. You'll always be young and healthy.” Grinning, he grasped her arms lightly and said, “Basically you
have
won a lotto of sorts. The Bricker lotto.”

“Riiiight,” she breathed and was about to knee him in the nuts when the hotel room door suddenly opened. Holly turned with surprise to stare at the man framed there. Tall, ice blond hair and even icier silver-­blue eyes, the man was intimidation plus one. Seriously, her eyes went as wide as saucers and her jaw probably dropped at the sight of him. As for him, he barely spared her a glance, but pointed a finger at Justin and then crooked it toward himself saying, “Come here. Now.”

“Umm.” Justin frowned at the man and then turned to offer Holly a crooked smile. “I'll be right back.” Urging her back into the chair she'd first sat in, he added, “Just sit down and relax. We can continue talking when I get back.”

He then turned and followed the blond out of the room and closed the door. The moment it clicked shut, Holly was on her feet and following. If they actually went into the room across the hall, she was so out of there.

 

Three

“W
hat now?” Justin asked with irritation, pulling his door closed and following Lucian into the room across the hall. His footsteps slowed as he noted that Anders and Decker were both now seated in the chairs on either side of a coffee table by the window, and both were grinning.

“Close the door,” Lucian said grimly.

Mouth tightening, Justin drew his gaze from his colleagues and closed the door. He then ignored Anders and Decker and focused on Lucian, eyebrows raised in question, silently demanding some explanation for the interruption.

Lucian opened his mouth, presumably to give him that explanation, but before he could say anything, a stifled chuckle slipped from Decker's lips.

Justin scowled at the man. “What's so funny?”

Decker shook his head, but when Justin started to turn his gaze back to Lucian, the man blurted, “ ‘You've won the Bricker lotto'?”

Justin stiffened, aware and annoyed that the men had obviously read that from his memories.

“Seriously?” Decker asked with disbelief. “All that razzing you gave me, Lucian, and Mortimer about not knowing how to deal with women and you come out with that?”

“I was being charming,” he said irritably.

“Oh, yeah, that was charming all right,” Decker said on a laugh.

Justin scowled. “Well, she liked it. And my explanations were going great . . . until Lucian interrupted,” he added resentfully. “We'd be in the middle of life mate sex by now if he hadn't.”

“What?” Decker asked with patent disbelief.

“We would,” Justin assured him. “I was about to plant a wet one on Holly's lips to prove to her that we are life mates. Wham! The life mate passion would have hit right away and—­”

“And you'd have been writhing on the ground in agony,” Lucian interrupted his bragging with the dry words. When Justin glanced sharply to him, he added, “My interruption saved you a physical assault.”

“What?” Justin asked with disbelief.

“You heard me,” Lucian said and then glanced to Decker. The other man was immediately on his feet and moving to the door. Once he'd cracked it open so that he could watch the hall, Lucian turned his attention back to Justin and continued, “You may have thought just being honest and telling her what was what would work far better than the ‘sad, pathetic attempts' the rest of us made to explain matters to our life mates, but—­”

“I did and still do. Certainly it's better than beating around the bush and—­”

Lucian nodded solemnly. “It worked so well, she thinks you're ‘cuckoo for Cocoa puffs' which I presume means crazy.” He paused briefly, but when Justin just stared at him in disbelief, he assured him, “That comes directly from her mind. She thinks you need psychological help and was about to ‘knee you in the nuts'—­also her thought—­when I opened the door,”

“You did not read her through the wall,” Justin protested.

He shook his head. “I read it from her thoughts when I opened the door. It isn't the reason I intervened. You just got lucky I did.”

“Right,” Justin sighed wearily. “So why did you intervene?”

“Because there are some things you need to know that you didn't let me tell you before you rushed off the last time,” Lucian said quietly and then added with a shrug, “Besides, you can't read or control her. It seemed smart to do a quick read and see how she was taking things.”

Justin scowled and then asked reluctantly, “You're sure she . . .”

“Thought you are crazy?” Lucian finished when he hesitated. “Yes. I am sure.”

Justin shook his head unhappily. “She seemed to be taking it so well.”

“No doubt she thought it was best to humor you,” Decker said from the door and Justin glanced to him with alarm.

“Relax. She can't hear us,” Decker assured him, easing the door closed and leaning against the wall beside it, his pose relaxed.

Justin scowled. “Are you controlling her?”

“No need,” he assured him, and then added, “She's gone.”

“What?” Justin squawked and hurried to the door.

“No!” Lucian said, and this time his sharp tone brought Justin to an abrupt halt.

Turning reluctantly, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“There are some things you need to know before you go after her.”

Justin waited impatiently.

“You have more obstacles than you think,” he said quietly.

“You mean aside from the fact that she thinks I'm crazy?” Justin asked dryly. To his mind, it couldn't get much worse than that.

Lucian nodded. “I know you think you know modern women better than the rest of us.”

“I do. I've been dating, wooing, and winning them since I was sixteen, while the rest of you hadn't even spoken to a mortal woman in centuries before meeting your life mate,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” Lucian agreed. “But you've been dating a certain kind of woman.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Justin asked with affront. “I've dated all sorts of different women over the decades; blondes, brunettes, redheads, short, tall, skinny, not skinny . . . I've dated them all.”

“Yes,” Lucian agreed. “But they all have had one thing in common.”

“And what's that?” Justin asked with a frown.

“They were all, every last one,” he emphasized before finishing with, “single.”

“Well, yeah, of course they were,” Justin said with amusement. “I would hardly . . .” He paused abruptly as Lucian's meaning got through to him and then breathed, “Ah shit, no.”

“Ah shit, yes,” Lucian said. “Holly is married.”

Justin suddenly found himself sitting down. He didn't plan it, wasn't sure how it happened, but his legs were no longer beneath him and he was sitting on the floor, his back against the closed door, and having trouble catching his breath.

“Head between your knees and breathe,” Decker said sympathetically, pushing on his head even as he said it.

Justin didn't fight him, but let his head fall between his upraised knees, rested his wrists on his legs and took several deep breaths, then glanced up sharply and asked, “Are you sure?”

“It was in her thoughts, Bricker,” Lucian said quietly. “Not on the surface, but under thoughts of how to handle you was the worry about what her husband must think with her not being home when he got in from work, that he must be worried and so on.”

Justin merely dropped his head and took several more deep breaths. His life mate was married. He couldn't ignore that, couldn't interfere with it. He'd turned her and yet, even if she had been willing or proved willing now, he couldn't claim her. They had laws against that kind of thing. For a ­people to whom life mates were so important, it was almost sacrilegious to interfere in a marriage. It was also against one of their lesser laws, not a life losing offense, but an offense that could get you dragged in front of the council for sentencing and then punishment of an almost worse kind, one that threatened a man's genitalia.

Feeling hollow, he raised his head and peered at Lucian with confusion. “What do I do?”

“You turned her, you're responsible for her. You have to teach her to be one of us,” Lucian said grimly.

“Sure, no problem,” Justin said and then snorted. “She doesn't even believe we exist or that she is one of us. How the hell am I supposed to train her?”

“She'll believe the minute she tries to bite her husband or someone else,” Lucian said reasonably. “I suggest you stay close and ensure she doesn't succeed. Once she loses control and then regains it, she'll realize you are not crazy, that we do exist, that she is one of us and then she will allow you to train her.”

Justin lowered his head and took several more deep breaths at the thought of having to train her. Being close enough to touch and kiss, but never able to actually do it. Knowing she was his life mate and that a mere caress or kiss would send them both up in flames, but never being able to ignite that fire . . . Dear God, it would be torture.

“Decker,” he said abruptly, raising his head.

“Decker isn't doing this for you,” Lucian announced, preventing his asking just that. “This is your responsibility. You turned her. She is your life mate.”

“Who I can never claim,” Justin said bitterly.

Lucian nodded solemnly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps not. Or you might be able to claim her some day and just have to wait to do so.”

Justin peered at him in question. “What do you mean?”

“She could divorce, or be widowed,” Lucian pointed out and shrugged. “You might have to wait ten, twenty, or forty years, but eventually she may be single.”

“So long as she doesn't die before her husband does, or before they can divorce,” Justin said grimly.

Lucian arched his eyebrows. “She isn't likely to die, Bricker. You turned her.”

“Oh. Right,” he muttered and realized he must truly be overset to have forgotten that for even a moment. Shaking his head, he met Lucian's gaze and asked, “What do I say about telling her husband? I mean, once she realizes it's true and she is immortal she'll want to explain it all to her husband. She'll have to explain her not aging and—­”

“She cannot,” he said simply. “Not until I have met with them both and say it is all right to do so.”

“I see marriage to Leigh hasn't taught you a thing about modern women,” Justin said with disgust. “She won't agree not to tell him just because you say so. She has no idea who you are.”

“Then I suggest you ensure she knows who I am and why she should listen to me,” Lucian said silkily. He allowed a moment for that to sink in and then added, “You should be on your way now. She wasn't feeling any hunger when she left, but who knows how long that will last? We don't want her biting anyone before you catch up to her.”

“I don't know where—­” Justin paused as Anders picked up the purse on the coffee table and walked over to hand it to him.

“Her license with her address is in it, as are her car keys,” he reminded him. “And her car is down in the parking lot.”

Justin took the purse and stared at it briefly. Married. He couldn't read her, had turned her, and she was married. He hadn't had a clue. There had been nothing to tell him that, no wedding ring, no . . . blinking, he glanced to Anders. “Was there a wedding ring in the purse?”

When the man shook his head, Justin let his breath out on a sigh and turned to the door. As he headed out into the hall, he wondered about that. Why hadn't she been wearing a wedding ring? The question plagued him all the way down to her car. He forced it away though as he got in and quickly started it. Doing so didn't help much. He couldn't shut off his thoughts and as he drove toward the address on her license, he found his thoughts a confusion of . . . well, confusion.

He knew he was lucky he'd found his life mate while he was so young, even if he couldn't immediately claim her. Many immortals waited centuries, or even millennia, to find their mate and he was just over one century old. He was very fortunate in that way. Her being married, though, was a wrinkle he'd never considered. He still couldn't believe she was. What were the chances? Well, really, he supposed, pretty good for him.

Seriously, if there was anyone who was likely to meet their life mate only to find they were married, it was him. He had that kind of luck—­really amazing, and really bad all at the same time. His life was full of such examples. Losing his wallet leading to meeting a really hot girl. A car accident leading to meeting a really hot girl. Being given a shit job, one no one would want on a hunt . . . leading to meeting a really hot girl.

Okay, so a lot of his examples included a hot girl. He couldn't help it. He was young, healthy, and basically horny. He liked girls, hot girls especially. But best of all was today's hot women. When he'd first reached the age of dating back some ninety years ago, wooing his way into a woman's bed had been a lot harder and more work. Good girls back then simply hadn't had sex unless they were married to the man they slept with. Nowadays though, women were much more sexually free. Good girls
did
have sex with men they weren't married to, and it didn't take months or even weeks of wooing to get them there anymore. Justin had taken full advantage of the benefits of this era . . . and he'd enjoyed it.

Now, however, it looked like his catting-­around days were over. Maybe . . . or maybe not. He didn't know at this point. He had a life mate who was married, someone he couldn't claim. Technically, he could still cat around if he liked . . . but would he want to? Would other women hold any attraction now that he'd met his mate? Or was he now as good as a eunuch? Christ, Justin thought with horror, this had to be some cosmic joke.

“H
ere you are, lady. That'll be sixteen bucks even. Hmmph. That's a rarity. It's never an even buck, there's usually some change tacked on there too.”

Holly forced a smile for the driver and peered out the window to her home. Much to her relief, James's car was in the driveway. She would have been in a real pickle if he weren't home. She still might be, she acknowledged grimly, and then cleared her throat and glanced to the driver. “I'll just run in and get the money for you.”

“What? Oh, hey, no, no, no.” The words were accompanied by a clicking sound as he used the automatic button to set the locks. “Your friend can come out and pay for you, but you aren't getting out of here and taking a runner on me.”

Holly glanced toward the house and back. Forcing herself to remain calm, she said, “My husband, not my friend. And he isn't likely to come out. He isn't watching for me.” She glanced toward the house again and added, “This is my house. You know the address. Doing a runner, as you call it, would hardly do me any good with you knowing the address.”