The Lady Is a Vamp (30 page)

“Yes,” Jeanne Louise said quietly, and continued into the house to return to cutting her vegetables. She wasn’t even going to look out a window to watch and be sure he didn’t get hurt again, Jeanne Louise vowed. And she would try hard to forget that he was out here banging heads with immortals who apparently had wood between their ears, she decided grimly.

Jeanne Louise had finished cutting up the vegetables, poured them along with beef stock into a pot and was stirring the beginnings of her stew when the sound of the door opening caught her ear. She glanced up, but then lowered her head again quickly when she saw that it was Paul.

“Hey Paul,” Caro greeted him lightly. “Who’s winning?”

“The other side,” Paul muttered, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard and moving to the water cooler. He set his glass on the small shelf under the spout and pressed the button, then pulled it out and gulped half of it down before glancing toward Jeanne Louise, and then it was only to say, “The bottle needs changing. Where does Marguerite keep the replacements?”

Jeanne Louise hesitated, then set down her spoon and moved toward the door to the pantry. “I’ll get it.”

“I wasn’t asking you to get it. I can get it. Just tell me where it is,” Paul said sharply, following her.

“It’s no trouble,” Jeanne Louise said grimly, tugging the door open and stepping into the garage. “Just go back to your game. I’ll replace the bottle.”

“God dammit, Jeanie!”

She stopped abruptly at the shout and then turned slowly as Paul stepped into the small room and closed the door. Sighing, he leaned back against the door and shut his eyes before saying wearily, “Jeanie, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” she asked warily.

He opened his eyes and said solemnly, “I can’t handle you treating me like a child.”

Jeanne Louise frowned and then forced a nervous laugh and moved in front of him, her hands sliding down over his chest, one drifting farther down to cup him through his jeans as she leaned up to nibble at his ear and whisper, “I hardly think I treat you like a child, Paul.”

“Not in bed,” he said grimly, catching her hands and urging her back. “That’s the only time you don’t treat me like a child.”

Jeanne Louise stared at him uncertainly. “I don’t understand. When do I treat you like a child?”

“The water jug,” he said quietly.

She shrugged her shoulders unhappily. “I was just trying to help. They’re heavy and—”

“For me,” Paul interrupted. “But they aren’t for you or Livy, I know,” he said wearily. “But they aren’t so heavy I can’t carry them.” Sighing, he ran one hand through his hair. “You’re overprotective of me, Jeanie. You don’t want me to do anything dangerous, or carry anything heavy. I suspect if I let you, you’d wrap me in cotton batting and keep me in the house all the time.”

“I’m just . . .” When Jeanne Louise paused helplessly, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

“It’s bad enough that your uncle and the other men treat me like a girl, but I can’t handle you doing it too,” Paul said in a pained voice.

Jeanne Louise hesitated, and then wrapped her arms around him. “We’re just worried about you, Paul.”

“I know,” he said unhappily. “And why wouldn’t you be? I’m the weakling here. The fragile one. And you’re all stronger, faster, and smarter than me.”

“We may be stronger and faster, but we’re not smarter,” Jeanne Louise said at once, trying to pull back. “You’re smart, Paul.”

“Then why didn’t I see what your uncle and father did?” he asked quietly, letting her pull back finally. “Why didn’t I see that we wouldn’t work like this?”

“We can work,” she said at once, desperation entering her voice.

“No, we won’t,” Paul said solemnly. “We can’t. Because I’m asking you to do what I couldn’t.”

Jeanne Louise shook her head with confusion. “I don’t—”

“I’m asking you to watch me die,” he said solemnly. “Jeanie, you treat me exactly like I treated Livy when I found out about the tumor, even before she grew thin and weak. You’re worried and protective. You’re having to watch me die just like I was watching Livy die, only you’re going to have to watch and worry for decades rather than months. And you have no hope of saving me.” He let his breath out on a sigh, and then said, “I was selfish enough that I was willing to let you suffer the worry and misery of it. I wanted it even though I knew it would hurt you every day to see me age, wither, and die. And I’d probably still be selfish enough to make you do that . . . except for how weak and useless it makes me feel.”

“I’ll try not to make you feel weak and useless,” Jeanne Louise said quietly and when he started to shake his head, she said more strongly, “I will. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel. I’ll let you be a man, Paul. I’m not saying I won’t worry or fret, but I’ll try to check myself before I speak, and let you carry heavy things and I won’t try to stop you from doing things you’re perfectly capable of.”

“But no one else will,” he pointed out gently. “They’ll still treat me like the weakling I am in comparison to them.”

“Then we’ll leave,” she said. “We’ll go to your house. I can train Livy myself.”

“Will they let us?” Paul asked uncertainly.

“They’ll have to,” she said firmly.

Paul stared at her uncertainly, and then nodded and pulled her against his chest for a hug, and Jeanne Louise let her breath out on a sigh. But she was troubled. Just the thought of losing him had raised such panic in her . . . and she was going to. She might be lucky and he’d live to eighty. She might have forty years with him. But that was barely a heartbeat to her people. She was one hundred and two years old, almost one hundred and three. Just a baby to her people. She could live to be a thousand, two thousand, even three thousand years old. Her time with him would be a mere blip in her life, and then she would spend the rest of her years alone, living on her memories. It could break her.

Seventeen

“M
y, you look comfy in there.”

Jeanne Louise opened her eyes and smiled as Paul settled on the side of the large whirlpool tub in his master bedroom and leaned to scoop up a handful of the bubbles surrounding her. They had left Marguerite’s house three days ago. No one had tried to stop them. They had all seemed to understand, and so far they hadn’t heard from Uncle Lucian, though she was sure they would soon.

Jeanne Louise had expected that Bricker and Anders would have to go with them, but they hadn’t. Instead, they’d returned to the Enforcer house, leaving she, Paul, and Livy to head out on their own. Jeanne Louise suspected she could thank her aunt for that. Marguerite had a way with Uncle Lucian.

So far things were going well. Or at least all right. Jeanne Louise had managed to force herself not to fuss so much, clamping down on the urge to intervene and carry the heavy things, or worry . . . at least out loud. But it had been hard, much harder than she’d expected, Jeanne Louise acknowledged. “Did Livy get off to sleep all right?” she asked.

“Dropped off like a dream,” Paul said with amusement, and then pointed his hand toward her and blew at the bubbles on his flat palm, sending them drifting toward her. She chuckled when they landed on her cheek and drifted down to join the others around her breasts.

“This is a big tub,” Jeanne Louise pointed out softly.

“Big enough for two,” Paul agreed with a grin.

“So why don’t you join me.”

Paul grinned. “You just want to see me strip.”

“Darn right,” she assured him and arched one eyebrow. “So. You gonna do it?”

Chuckling, he stood and headed for the door, saying, “Nah. We might both drown in the tub when we fainted, or at least I would,” Paul added wryly. “Besides, I had a shower before making dinner, remember? I think I’ll go build a fire in the fireplace in the bedroom and wait for you.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “Don’t take too long. I might fall asleep waiting.”

“I’ll keep that in mind as I soap every inch of my body here all by myself,” Jeanne Louise taunted with a sad moue.

“Don’t forget to rinse. Soap doesn’t taste good and I plan on licking every inch of you when you get out,” he teased right back.

“You can try,” Jeanne Louise said on a snort of laughter. That darned life mate shared passion made such efforts impossible at this stage of the game.

“I intend to,” Paul assured her. “And I will keep trying until I succeed. It might take a decade or two, but—” He shrugged. “I’ll have fun trying.”

Jeanne Louise chuckled at the claim and picked up the soap and washcloth, now eager to clean herself and get out of the bath.

P
aul was whistling under his breath as he opened the grate to the fireplace. Turning toward the log holder, he started to bend to collect a couple, but then paused as he saw that there was only one in it. He almost didn’t bother with a fire then. It was summer, the air-conditioning was on for heaven’s sake. They didn’t really need a fire. It had just seemed a nice romantic gesture, a bottle of wine, a fire, soft music . . . Mind you, the air-conditioning was good when you were clothed, but it could get a bit chilly when they were all naked and sweaty.

Paul shifted briefly on his feet and then turned and headed out of the bedroom. He’d cut a couple logs, and build a small fire. Just big enough to set the mood, offer ambient lighting and to take the chill off. He wanted to make tonight special. Things had been a bit stiff and awkward between them since his blowup at Marguerite’s after playing soccer. Paul knew Jeanne Louise had only been worrying about him, and felt bad for what he’d said that afternoon. It was true, of course. He did feel like the weak one in the relationship at times. But then he was, physically, and knew it. Unfortunately, her coddling and fussing just made it worse, but Paul knew she coddled and fussed because she cared. They would work it out. They had to.

Frowning at the desperation of his own thoughts, he jogged lightly downstairs and headed up the hall to the kitchen. Boomer was immediately rising from his spot by the back door, tail wagging and whining.

“You want out for a bit?” Paul asked the dog as he stopped at the kitchen closet to retrieve the small axe he kept inside.

Taking the frantic tail wagging and yip as a doggy yes, Paul smiled and closed the closet door, then led the animal to the back door, warning, “It’s a short run only, buddy. I’m splitting a couple logs and then I’m back inside whether you’re ready or not, so make it quick.”

Boomer burst out of the door before he had it fully open. Chuckling under his breath, Paul followed him out and then moved to the left to the large stump with several more logs laid out beside it. They were the remains of a tree a winter storm had taken down six months earlier. Fortunately, it had fallen away from the house or Paul would have had the beginnings of a terrarium in his kitchen.

Grimacing at the thought, he picked up one of the logs, set it on the stump, and set to work. He’d split it in half and had set one half back on the stump, holding it upright with his left hand while swinging the small axe with his right when Boomer caught him by surprise and jumped on him from out of nowhere.

The action startled him, jerking his body and putting his aim off. The axe had gone through the pad below his thumb and sunk itself in the wood before he registered what had happened. The pain began a heartbeat later, slamming through him like a sledgehammer as the blood began to gush.

Cursing, he slid his hand out from around the axe and clutched it to his chest with his other hand, instinctively holding it up as he hurried for the house.

J
eanne Louise stepped into the bedroom and let the towel she’d wrapped around her drop, then blinked and glanced around with surprise. Paul wasn’t there.

“Well, hell,” she muttered, bending to pick up her towel and wrap it around her again. So much for her grand entrance, she thought wryly. He’d probably gone for wine or something, she thought moving farther into the room and then pausing when she saw the open grate in front of the fireplace. Her gaze slid to the lone log in the log holder and then she turned and crossed the room to the sliding glass doors to peer out. Sure enough, there he was, splitting logs, she saw, and then glanced to the side as she noted Boomer rushing toward him. She saw it happening, but didn’t see it coming. Boomer raced excitedly to Paul, lunged eagerly up to brace his paws on Paul’s leg. Paul glanced around with a start mid-swing, his arm going a little wild and then glanced sharply back to what he was doing as the axe landed.

For one second he didn’t move and she wasn’t sure if everything was all right or not, but then he released the axe, raised his gushing hand and clutched it to his chest as he rushed for the house. Heart in her throat, Jeanne Louise hurried from the room and rushed downstairs, arriving in the kitchen as he reached the sink and turned the tap on. Her gaze slid over the trail of blood from the back door and then she grabbed a dish towel and rushed to his side.

“Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” Paul muttered, holding his hand under the water. “It didn’t hit bone. It just got the fatty pad under my thumb.”

“It’s bleeding badly, Paul. Let me see,” she insisted, not willing to take no for an answer.

“It’s fine, Jeanie,” he said grimly, but let her pull his hand out from under the water and examine the wound.

“It’s not fine, you need stitches,” she said firmly, wincing as she took in the open gash. Jesus, he had missed bone, but by a hairsbreadth. And he was bleeding like crazy. She wrapped the towel around the wound and tied it tight, ignoring the pained way he sucked in a breath. She had to stop the bleeding. “You have to go to the hospital.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Can you watch Livy while I—”

“You are not driving yourself to the hospital with one hand. Especially not after losing this much blood. You could pass out.”

“There you go, fussing again,” he said with irritation.

Jeanne Louise ground her teeth together. “Sit down,” she said firmly. “I’ll get dressed and grab Livy and we’ll head right over.”

She ushered him to a chair at the table, saw him seated and then raced out of the room, using immortal speed rather than the slower more mortal speed they tried to incorporate around mortals. Jeanne Louise was back in the bedroom, tugging clothes on before most mortals would have reached the stairs. She didn’t worry over much about what she put on, just grabbed up the clothes she’d been wearing earlier and slapped them on, grabbed her car keys off the bedside table, and then rushed into Livy’s room and scooped her up, slipping into her thoughts to keep her sleeping as she did.