The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) (26 page)

She didn’t seem to hear him.

“Roz?” he called, trying not to scare her.

She straightened. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, pushing to her feet.

“I brought meat.” He glanced awkwardly at the hooves visible through the screen door. “Are there pots and pans? I want to cook dinner. I don’t want to waste it.”

“Yeah,” she said, finally coming back to herself. “The kitchen’s stocked.”

Connor had never butchered an animal, but their New Zealand friends had stored enough cooking and eating utensils in the cabin’s kitchen to make a professional chef smile. A couple cuts here, a few chops there, and Connor had a roast simmering on the stovetop and several pounds of antelope steak wrapped and cooling in the box freezer in the garage.

“Hey Roz?” he called.

She peeked her head around the corner. “It smells good in here.”

He lifted the phone out of her hands, raised his eyebrows at the list of known shapeshifter packs she’d been searching, and ran a search for best vegetarian recipes. “Some of this sounds damned good.”

Roz tapped him on the arm. “You feel better after your hunt?”

Their eyes met and held, and something indefinable passed between them. She understood him perfectly, always had.

“All better, thanks.”

She looked away first. “Good. Because I’m hungry, and I don’t want you to screw up dinner.”

Rolling his eyes, he returned his attention to the recipe site.

“What was that?” Alina passed through the kitchen, hesitating in the arched entryway.

His instincts zeroed in on her, as everything and everyone else in the place faded to shadows. He could smell her unique bouquet. And now he knew what she tasted like.

Roz stepped between them. “I’m gonna grab my sleeping bag. Tonight, you two take the bedroom.”

“We’ll all share,” Ali said, tucking her hair behind her ears. Connor stared, picking out strands of umber and sienna woven through her glorious fall of blonde hair. He wanted to touch it, smell it. Hell, he’d kiss it if he could. That and every other inch of her.

But kissing required privacy. And, like always, Roz seemed to read his mind. There was one bed in the cabin, but the sofa was big enough to sleep on, and there was always the floor. If he and Ali shared the bed, Roz would have to rough it.

Roz laughed, looking absurdly bashful. “I think the time for sharing beds has passed. I’ll be comfy as can be on the couch, trust me.”

“I couldn’t.”

Roz raised a hand in Ali’s direction. “End of discussion.”

Connor liked having Ali’s scent on his clothes and the taste of her blood on his tongue. Sleeping beside her, conscious of her every breath and heartbeat, would be the worst kind of torture. And yet, his pulse leapt at the idea.

“It’ll be safer this way,” he told her. It sounded ridiculous, but Ali was standing there ready to argue. He didn’t want her to argue. He wanted her to say yes.

Chapter Nineteen

The thought of sharing Connor’s bed without Roz on the opposite side was a little distracting for Ali, especially with him leaning against the back door, his height and his wide shoulders seeming to take up the whole kitchen. She pretended to be fascinated with the canned food stacked neatly in the cupboards.

“What are you making?” she asked, and when she turned around Roz had slipped out, leaving her alone with Connor.

“Black bean burgers,” he said, remaining across the room with his arms folded. “Does that sound good to you?”

“You don’t have to make anything for me,” she assured, though her tummy rumbled at the thought of enjoying quality protein. “I can just eat some preserved fruit.” She pushed around some tins of apple pie filling.

“I want to cook for you.” Connor shoved off the door and set Roz’s phone on the counter, showing her a recipe for black bean pumpkin burgers. “You like these?”

The grumbling behind her belly button escalated. “Definitely.”

“There’s no bread or anything fresh for buns,” he said, beginning to pull ingredients, “but I think I can make it work.”

“Let me help.” She stepped up to the sink to wash her hands and tore off the bandage around her wrist, then stopped short. “Connor?” she called, her voice telegraphing concern.

“What’s wrong?” He was there beside her a moment later, his hands on her arm, his eyes taking in the same confusing sight she was. “It’s healed.”

Ali couldn’t believe it either, but the puncture wounds she’d had a couple hours earlier were nothing more than twin pink dots now. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” he said, pulling her arm in closer to see better.

“It must be something in your saliva,” she guessed, “or your fangs. It helps your bites heal as fast as you do.”

He frowned at her, a surprising mix of hope and fear behind his eyes. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Maybe it’s one of those things vampires keep to themselves.” But what if it was true? He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting her if he needed blood. She wouldn’t worry about covering scars and bruises. They could share the intimacy of a bite without the guilt.

“I’ll ask Roz to look into it. I still don’t want to hurt you.” Just like that, he blinked away any wonder over their discovery and was back in chef mode. “Can you help me gather ingredients?

Ali let the subject drop, for now, but she didn’t forget it. Because feeding Connor had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life and she wasn’t willing to forbear unless she absolutely had to.

She checked the recipe, and then collected cumin, coriander, and a sack of rice. “I made similar patties before, and I loved them.”

Connor took position over the mixing bowl and measuring cups. He read off each ingredient, she passed it to him, and he measured the specified amount into the bowl.

As he moved, she couldn’t tear her eyes from his hands. Strong fingers capable of crushing cantaloupes, but also of brushing hair gently from her cheek. The muscles along his forearms flexed and his biceps bunched, drawing her gaze. How his T-shirt sleeves didn’t tear, she didn’t know, because they stretched past reasonable limits.

“Is this good?”

Ali’s chin snapped up, thinking she’d been caught ogling his body, but he hadn’t noticed. Brow creased, he worked his fingers through the gooey mixture.

“It says to mix by hand,” he said.

“You’re doing great.” Sweeping aside any hesitation, she ducked under his left arm and lodged herself between the counter and his body, sticking her hands into the bowl. Her fingers tangled in his as he instinctively pulled away. Ali gripped his fingers, moving them around the bowl.

“Just like this.”

A moment passed in silence, and then a bit of tension eased from Connor’s body, and he curved more fully around her as they mixed the ingredients and formed sticky, ebony patties.

Scraping the last bit of goodness from the bottom of the bowl, Ali slipped out from between Connor’s arms and started frying her dinner in a drizzle of coconut oil. “These smell so good, I can hardly wait to eat them.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I try one,” he said, drying off his hands. “I’ve never had a vegetarian burger before.”

“You’re going to love it,” she promised, flipping the patty and smiling at the satisfying sizzle.

“I hunted,” he admitted, moving into her personal space.

She crinkled her nose, torn between her beliefs and his need for blood. “How was it?”

“Strange,” he said, leaning a hip against the granite countertop. “I’ve never done anything like that before, but I tried to reduce its stress as much as I could.”

Ali had never imagined falling for a man who hunted. She’d always assumed she’d convince anyone she loved about the benefits of a violence-free lifestyle. But now that she cared so much about Connor, there really wasn’t anything to consider. Either he drank blood, or he suffered.

“These are done,” she said, smiling up at him. “How about your roast?”

“Oh, yeah.” He snapped upright, as if remembering where he was. “I’ll get everything on the patio table. You go ahead. Tell Roz we’re about to sit down.”

The only space large enough to accommodate all three of them and their serving platters was the beautiful wrought iron table under a covered patio behind the kitchen. In the lavender dusk, the rectangle of concrete surrounded by rock gardens and wild cacti was beyond picturesque.

They all helped set the table and then circled it to enjoy roast antelope, spinach from a tin, dinner rolls from the box freezer, and Ali’s black bean pumpkin burgers. Connor topped it off with a bottle of white wine from the pantry and a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

The roasted meat must have been good because Connor ate almost the entire thing, while Roz finished it off. Ali, on the contrary, was completely satisfied with her burgers and spinach.

Best meal she’d had in days.

As the sun faded behind the foothills and the temperature cooled, Ali was in no hurry to go inside. Neither was anyone else, apparently. Roz kicked her bare feet onto an empty chair and searched websites from her phone.

Tonight Ali would share a bed with Connor, in a private room, with the door closed. It was different than lying beside him in the hotel’s bed, Roz snuggled on the other end. So different.

She couldn’t deny—didn’t want to anymore—that Connor was exactly her type. His strength and his peculiarity attracted her. That and his sad eyes. And his muscled arms. And his warmth. Tonight he was all hers. No chaperones. No secrets. She was terrified to crawl into that bed. At the same time, she couldn’t wait.

She needed a distraction. “Roz, can I play, too?”

“I’m not playing games,” she said. “I’m researching your power.”

“Really?” She moved nearer the witch. “Did you find anything?”

“Not really. Can you tell me what happens when you glow?”

She rattled off some sensations—tingles, pressure, color, the rush of emotions. “I don’t know what will happen if I let it out completely. I always thought I’d transform into a creature or something.” Or she’d die. Fear of her possible mortality lingered at the back of her mind, and the longer she went without glowing the more she worried.

Several more minutes passed while Roz searched sites. Ali didn’t look at Connor, was pretending he wasn’t across the table, his legs stretched out before him. Soon, he’d be stretched out in their bed. There wouldn’t be six inches separating her from his long limbs.

Roz cleared her throat, and Ali startled. “I asked Anton, discreetly. He’d never heard of it. I checked a bunch of my go-to blogs. I didn’t find anyone who glows.”

No surprise there. Years ago, Ali had secretly done her own research. She’d never read of anyone with her problem.

“But I found a girl from China who was born with green pigmentation. And then there’s this boy in Canada who has a bioluminescent pattern all over his body, like the fish in the mega deep ocean. But neither one of them can control it, and they’re not affected by emotion.”

“So, I’m the freak of all freaks,” Ali grumbled.

“There are lots of people who are one of a kind.”

Pieces of her personal puzzle fit into place. It wasn’t random power building inside her with purpose. And it wasn’t witchy magic. Vampire blood had passed through her and her mother moments before her birth.

“But I’m the only one with infected blood inside me, rising like a volcano.” She glanced up at Connor and caught him staring.

“Oh, yeah,” Roz said, drawing their attention back to her, “that’s the other thing. Not everything that happens is reported, of course, but I can’t find any rumors of an expectant mother infected and then delivering a normal child. Well, relatively normal.” She smiled sympathetically. “There’s a lot of talk on medical sites that the infection would kill a fetus. They claim what happened to you is impossible.”

Roz and Connor should know everything, she realized suddenly. There was no benefit to keeping any more secrets. They’d saved her life, accepted her into their group, and shown her kindness when they didn’t owe her anything.

“I need to tell you a couple more things,” she said, taking a fortifying sip of cool, fresh water. “It’s the reason I came to the States in the first place.”

Ali laid it all out on the table—her dad’s secret bank account, the photo of the red-haired woman, the unexplained marriage certificate, and Dad’s secret extended family.

“You came here to find out who you really are,” Connor said, nodding.

“Mission accomplished,” Roz added, but then grew serious. “We can safely assume he was paying Irina hush money of some kind to protect your identity. And the redhead is obviously your mother.”

“He gave you a fake origin story growing up,” Connor said, “to protect you. I mean, if you look at what he did, everything was to keep you safe.”

She thought of the documents, the money, and the secret family. “I guess you’re right.” She missed her dad in that moment more than she had since his death. She loved him, despite his flaws, and she wished he were still around so she could tell him.

“He must have thought,” Connor said, “that your prophecy and your mother’s infection were curses upon you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Connor caught her eye and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I’d rather see them as strengths. We don’t understand everything yet, but I don’t believe there’s anything evil about you.”

“I’m Anya from Nadvirna,” she said, testing the truth of the words. “The Oracle talks about me.”

Katya and her vampire lover—if Irina was to be believed—altered Ali on a molecular level when their infected blood passed through her. But she wasn’t a vampire. She was something else, something new. Mom’s dark-haired lover’s blood may not have infected her, not in the traditional way, but it had changed her.

“I don’t have any further doubts,” Roz said, glancing from Ali to Connor. “Anyone still have doubts?”

“I’m Anya from Nadvirna,” Ali said again, quieter. “Freak of all freaks.”

“You’re not a freak.” Connor yawned and stretched his arms above his head. She watched the ripple of muscle across his chest while pretending not to.

His eyes snapped up and locked on hers. “You’re a very important person,” Connor told her. “You’re present at Oleksander’s final battle, whether it will be his defeat or his victory. So, maybe we have a little control over the outcome.”