The Reluctant Vampire (26 page)

“They go into a torpor, not a true hibernation,” Leonora explained quietly. “And it was probably hungry. They will sometimes wake up and come out in search of food if it warms a bit, and it did warm up quite a bit last night.” There was a pause, and then Leonora said, “I just feel sorry for the poor little thing having to sit down there in the kitchen all by herself like some sort of outcast. She looked so miserable when I went down to ask Anders if he’d managed to reach Lucian yet.”

“Had he?” Teddy asked sharply.

“No, I’m afraid not. He said he’s left several messages, though. I’m sure Lucian will call soon.”

There was a gusty sigh, and Teddy said, “Well, he’d better. You’re all welcome to stay here, of course. But this is a small house. I only have the two bedrooms. You’ll all be sleeping in shifts until he calls and gives some sort of instruction.”

Harper was having trouble following the conversation. What the hell was a smelly cat and who had been playing with it? For that matter, what was wrong with playing with a cat? And what was that about Lucian and instructions?

Harper forced his eyes open and turned his head to peer toward the voices and found he was in bed in a room he didn’t recognize and that Alessandro, Teddy, and Leonora were having their rather strange little discussion by the door.

Movement beside him in the bed drew his attention, and Harper turned his head the other way to find Stephanie lying beside him. Her eyes were open, and she looked much less confused than he felt.

“Drina was sprayed by a skunk,” Stephanie explained quietly, apparently reading his confusion. “Alessandro calls them smelly cats.”

“Ah.” Harper sighed and supposed he should have recalled as much. He had a vague recollection of hearing the name “smelly cat” before from the man, but it had been sometime ago.

“You’re awake,” Teddy said grimly.

Harper turned his head to watch the trio approach the bed.

“How do you feel?” Leonora asked, bending to smooth his hair back from his forehead and check his eyes for he knew not what.

“Better than I did earlier,” he said dryly, recalling the “earlier” in question. Roaring flames, bubbling skin, the stench of burnt meat, and knowing it was his flesh. Being engulfed by fire was a most unpleasant and terrifying experience. It wasn’t something he’d soon forget.

Leonora moved around the bed to Stephanie now and repeated the same question and actions; feeling her forehead he realized now, not just brushing hair back, and checking her eyes, perhaps to see if they were clear or how much silver there was in them. It could be a good gage of many things, including passion levels and blood levels.

Harper heard Stephanie murmur that she was fine. He didn’t believe her for a minute. He had no doubt the poor kid was traumatized. Hell, he was traumatized, and he wasn’t a teenager who until just recently had been mortal. Fire was one of the few things that could kill their kind. If they hadn’t gotten out of that room and found help to douse the flames, they could have died there.

The thought disturbed him and made him shift unhappily. “Where’s Drina?”

“Er . . . She was sprayed by a skunk,” Teddy said with a grimace.

“Yes, Stephanie said so, but where is she?” What he really wanted to know was why the hell she wasn’t there with him. He’d nearly died, dammit. He wanted her with him.

“Well, she’s down in the kitchen at the moment.”

“They won’t let her out of the kitchen because they don’t want her to smell up the house,” Stephanie told him, no doubt plucking the explanation from someone’s head. He didn’t care whose.

“She’s very worried about you, though,” Leonora reassured him. “She wanted to be here with you both. She’s probably fretting herself sick down there.”

The words soothed him somewhat but not completely, and Harper sat up and started to get out of bed, pausing when the blankets covering him fell away revealing a Port Henry Police T-shirt and black joggers.

“Your clothes were pretty much just charred bits melted into your skin. They fell away with the damaged skin as you healed. Teddy was kind enough to loan you those and help Alessandro dress you while Dawn and I dressed Stephanie,” Leonora explained quietly.

He glanced back to Stephanie to see that she wore a similar getup. Grunting, he stood, his gaze sliding over a garbage bin brimming with empty blood bags. They were really going through them. In fact, he wondered that they’d had enough to deal with the accident, Tiny’s turn, and now this.

“Leonora opened up the blood bank, and she and Edward brought back a bunch more blood,” Teddy announced, catching where his gaze had gone.

Harper nodded. Leonora had insisted on coming out of retirement after her turn and taken a position at the local blood bank, which had distressed Alessandro no end. Not that he really minded having a wife who worked. It was just distressing to him because they were still new turns, and Leonora’s position meant she had to leave their bed more frequently than he’d liked when she’d taken it on. Especially when he was wealthy enough that she needn’t work at all if she chose.

“Thank you,” he murmured to Leonora, heading for the door.

“Wait for me,” Stephanie said, throwing the covers aside to follow him.

Harper slowed as he headed out of the room, but not much. He wanted to see Drina. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. A man got a lot of things straight when he was forced to face his own mortality, and Harper had realized some things. He loved the damned woman. He’d come to love her fire, her passion, her wit, and her strength. And he was glad as hell she hadn’t been in that room when the firebomb or whatever it was had come flying through the window.

“A Molotov cocktail,” Stephanie said behind him, as he started down the stairs. He only realized she was naming whatever it was that had exploded all over them, when she explained, “The memory of the fire chief saying that was one of Teddy’s surface memories . . . Thank you for dragging me out of the porch.”

Harper slowed at her quiet words and turned to slip his arm around her shoulders affectionately, muttering, “My pleasure.”

Stephanie slipped her own arm around his waist and squeezed briefly, then slid past him on the stairs and hurried the rest of the way to the main floor, turning right at the bottom as if she knew where she was going. Harper followed since he didn’t have a clue of the layout of the house, and they turned into a dining room, where Stephanie paused abruptly, her mouth dropping.

Harper followed her gaze, spotted Drina slumped miserably on a stool in the kitchen at the opposite end of the house and started toward her at once. Relief coursed through him just at the sight of her. He was passing Stephanie when she made an odd sound that had him glancing toward her. He frowned as he realized that her mouth hadn’t dropped open in surprise; the girl was heaving.

Slowing reluctantly, he asked, “Are you all—” And then he came to a shuddering halt as the smell hit him. His head jerked back to Drina with horror just as her head came up.

She peered at them blankly for a second, and then relief lit up her face like a Christmas tree. She promptly leapt off her stool and rushed forward, clutching what appeared to be a ratty old sheet around her as she hurried to him.

“Oh, Harper, Stephanie. Oh thank God!” she cried. “I’ve been so worried.”

Despite himself, Harper took a quick step back at her approach, but then caught himself and forced himself to stand still. He also stopped breathing, however, holding his breath in a desperate bid to keep from gagging as the woman he loved threw herself at him and hugged him.

Drina held him tightly and for a very, very long time. At least it seemed a very long time to him as he continued to hold his breath, but then she finally pulled pack to peer up at him happily. Her smile was wide, her eyes glowing . . . until she saw his face. Concern immediately replaced her relief.

“You’re terribly flush,” she said with a frown. “Have you had enough blood? Maybe you should lie down for a bit. Are you—Harper, you’re turning purple!”

“I’m fine.” He sighed on an exhale and pulled her to his chest again so that she wouldn’t see his face as he inhaled another breath. Dear God, he thought as the toxic fumes wafted from the love of his life to fill his mouth and lungs. Oh Good Lord in heaven, he moaned inwardly, barely managing not to whimper aloud.

“I wanted to come up—” Drina began, and then paused as she peered past him. “Stephanie? What are you doing way over— Oh.”

She deflated like a punctured balloon, and then flushed with mortification and—avoiding Harper’s eyes—scrurried quickly back to her stool. She crawled back onto it, her shoulders slumped and every line of her body speaking of misery. Her voice was much subdued when she said, “I’m glad you’re both all right, and that you came down so I could see for myself. You can both go back upstairs now with the others, though, if you like. I understand.”

Harper turned to see that Stephanie had moved over to a desk holding a computer, about as far as she could get and stay in the room. He supposed that and the girl’s dismayed expression were what had recalled Drina to the matter of her scent.

Sighing, he glanced back to Drina, and then forced himself to move across the room to join her. With every step, he assured himself that his senses would deaden to the scent quickly, and he could bear it till they did. Still, he couldn’t help holding his breath as he approached and stood in front of her.

“What—?” she began when he appeared before her. But when Harper simply caught her upper arms and pulled her against his chest, she fell against him with a little sniffle that told him how much it meant to her. He suspected his Drina did not cry often, if at all. A weepy woman would never have passed for a male pirate, and he doubted gladiators could afford the luxury of weeping, either.

Harper heard her inhale and glanced down curiously to see that she had her nose pressed to his chest and was trying to inhale his scent. He wondered that she could smell anything over her own stench, so wasn’t terribly surprised when Drina sighed miserably, and mourned, “I can’t smell you. I love your scent, but I can’t smell you.”

Harper didn’t have a clue what to say to that, and really, speaking would mean releasing the air in his lungs and taking in another. He desperately wanted to avoid doing that until absolutely necessary, so was grateful for the distraction when the door beside them suddenly opened, and Anders entered, bags in hand.

Drina was out of his arms and on Anders at once. “Did you get everything?”

“Dear God, woman! Get back. You stink,” Anders barked.

Harper scowled at the man. It was no more than Drina was doing, however. He wasn’t surprised her moment of sniffly misery had passed and her naturally fiery nature had reasserted itself. This was more the Alexandrina Argenis he knew.

Eyes narrowing, Drina moved closer instead of getting back as Anders had ordered, and then hissed up at the Russian. “And you’re the most miserable SOB I’ve ever encountered, so I guess we all have our crosses to bear.” She snatched the bags from him, and then turned away adding, “The difference is I’m about to bathe away this smell, but when I come down, you’ll still be a miserable SOB.”

Harper found a smile pulling his mouth wide as he watched Drina make her exit, walking out of the room with her eyes blazing and head high, as regal as any queen.

“Damn, she’s magnificent,” he breathed, positive he must be the luckiest bastard on the planet to have found her.

“Glad you think so,” Anders said dryly. “Then you can take these instructions up to her so she doesn’t screw it up and use the stuff in the wrong order or something.”

Harper glanced down at the paper the hunter shoved at him, noting the title
Instructions on How to Remove Skunk Odor from a Human
. He glanced back to Anders and smiled widely. “I’ll even help her follow the instructions.”

“I’ll bet you will,” Anders said dryly.

Chapter Thirteen

Drina closed the bathroom door behind her with a kick of her heel, set the bags of soap, tomato juice, and vinegar on the bathroom counter, and then turned to the tub, only to pause with a frown. Was she supposed to just pour all this stuff in the tub, or was she supposed to add water or what? She hadn’t a clue. She needed the instructions.

Clucking with irritation, Drina turned back to the door, annoyed with herself because she was about to ruin a damned fine exit by having to scurry back and beg for the instructions. Muttering under her breath, she pulled the door open and found Harper there, hand upraised as if he’d been about to knock.

Smiling crookedly, he lowered the knocking hand and raised the other, revealing the instructions.

“Thank you,” Drina breathed, taking the sheet of paper with a relief that was not proportional to the moment. She knew then that her exhaustion was definitely making her overemotional. She’d sat on that stool all night, nodding off a time or two from sheer exhaustion, but only for a second each time before her swaying body had brought her abruptly back awake.

“Do you want some help?” Harper asked quickly when she started to close the door.

Drina paused in surprise, and then smiled wryly at his pained expression and shook her head. “Thank you for offering. It’s very sweet, but I know I smell like the worst backed-up drainage system ever and wouldn’t even inflict this on Anders.”

“I came prepared,” he said quickly, bringing her to a halt again. This time the door was almost closed, and she had to pull it back open. When she peered at him quizzically, Harper opened the hand he’d had fisted to knock, revealing a clothespin resting in his palm.

Drina released a startled laugh and shook her head. “You—”

Her words caught in her throat when he suddenly covered her mouth with his. Lifting it a moment later, Harper said gently, “I believe the expression is for better or worse. Besides, in a few minutes, it will be all better and no worse.”

She chuckled at the way he wiggled one eyebrow lasciviously and backed into the bathroom to let him in. “All right. You can read the instructions to me.”