“Turn it off, Cleopatra. I didn’t come here to flirt with you.”
“Another hope crushed. So, what do you want?”
“Abbey’s been fretting over who her biological father is. I figured if anyone knew anything about him, it would be you.”
“Has she asked her mother?”
“Yeah. Savanah said all she knew about the man was his age and that he was healthy.”
“I see.”
Nick tilted his head to one side. “You know more than that, don’t you?”
“Perhaps. How are things between the two of you now that you’re no longer human?”
“Same as they were before. Abbey never had a problem with my being a vampire.”
Obviously skeptical, Mara lifted one brow. “And when she grows old and you don’t?”
“I don’t know. I’ll worry about it when it happens.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “So, are you going to tell me what you know about Abbey’s biological father?”
“He appears to have been quite an interesting character. His name was Miles Cunningham. He was twenty-nine when he donated his sperm. Born in Maryland, never married. He listed his profession as an accountant.” Mara ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “In the course of his lifetime, he went by several aliases, none that I have ever heard of. He was also rumored to be a formidable warlock who was allied with a powerful coven in New Orleans. He died in prison two years ago while serving a fifteen-year sentence for grand larceny, among other things.”
“He couldn’t have been much of a warlock if he couldn’t magic his way out of prison,” Nick muttered. “Still, I can understand why Savanah never told Abbey about him.”
“I’m not sure Savanah ever knew. Are you going to tell Abbey?”
“She deserves to know the truth.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Probably not. But I promised Abbey I’d let her know whatever I found out.” Of course, he hadn’t expected to find out the man in question was a warlock and a crook. He frowned thoughtfully. “How’d you come by all this information?”
She shrugged. “I have my sources.”
“Uh-huh. And what were you planning to do with it?”
“I hadn’t decided, but it’s up to you now. Do what you wish.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly.
“Always glad to help,” she said, smirking. “Does Abbey know we’re meeting on the sly?”
“What do you think? Did you tell Logan?”
“What do you think?”
“It’s good to see you, Mara, as always.”
“And you.” She finished her wine and set the glass aside. Leaning across the table, she cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him lightly. Then, with a wink and a little extra swagger in her walk, she made her way to the exit.
Nick grinned as every male eye in the tavern focused on Mara’s swaying hips as she sauntered out the door.
Abbey was watching the end of the movie when Nick returned home. “You were gone a long time tonight.”
“Sorry.” Sitting beside her, he drew her close, his fingers caressing her cheek, sliding up into her hair. Cupping the back of her head, he covered her mouth with his. “Did you miss me?”
“Maybe.” She tugged his shirt from inside his jeans and slipped her hand underneath.
“Maybe?”
She leaned forward to kiss him, only to draw back, her brow furrowed. “Where were you?”
Shit.
“You were with Mara again, weren’t you?”
“Reading my mind, love?”
“No. Smelling her perfume,” she replied tartly. Scooting to the other end of the sofa, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did you go sneaking off to see her?”
“I didn’t go sneaking off.”
“No?” She lifted one brow. “Didn’t you tell me you were going hunting?”
“Do you want to listen to what I have to say, or not?”
She nodded curtly.
“You’ve been upset because you don’t know anything about your biological father. I figured if anybody would know about him, it would be Mara.”
Abbey leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Did she know him?”
“No, but she had some information.”
“Tell me!”
“Are you sure you want to hear this? It isn’t all good.”
“Nick, you promised! What did she tell you?”
“For starters, it seems he was a warlock, with ties to a coven in New Orleans.”
Abbey sat back, stunned. “He was a witch?” She didn’t know what she had expected, but this wasn’t it.
“So it seems.”
“Is that the good news or the bad?”
“I guess it depends on how you feel about witches. I’m pretty sure it’s his preternatural power that let you read my thoughts. You probably have some latent power of your own that you haven’t tapped into.”
“Me?” She blinked at him. “I’m not a witch.”
“How do you know?”
Abbey fell back against the sofa cushions. If she was a witch, wouldn’t she know it? Except for being able to read Nick’s mind, she had never done anything the least bit supernatural. “What else did Mara tell you?”
“It seems he used several aliases over the years. He was sent to prison for fleecing a man out of a fortune in uncut diamonds.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No. He died in prison two years ago.”
Abbey stared blankly into the distance. Not only was her biological father a warlock, he was a thief, as well. Surely her mother hadn’t known what kind of man he was. “Did Mara know his real name?”
“He listed his name as Miles Cunningham on the donor card. Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be all right? Just because the blood of a warlock who was also a thief and who knows what else runs through my veins?” She blinked rapidly in an effort to stay her tears.
Nick closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. “It doesn’t matter who fathered you,” he said, stroking her hair. “What matters is who you are. Rane and your mother have had more influence on you than some man you’ve never met. And they did a hell of a good job.”
Abbey buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, grateful for his nearness, his words of comfort. Maybe he was right. For decades, scientists had been trying to determine which factor played a stronger role in a child’s development—heredity or environment. Nature versus nurture. To date, there was no decision as to which played a more important part. So even though her biological father had been a thief, she had been taught that stealing was wrong, so it was unlikely that she would become a thief. But being able to read Nick’s mind hadn’t been taught. “Do you think my mother knew he was a warlock?”
“I doubt it.”
“Do you think I should tell her?”
“After all this time?” He shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you.”
Abbey sighed. On the one hand, if her mother didn’t already know, there was nothing to be gained by telling her at this late date. What was done was done and couldn’t be undone. Besides, if her mother didn’t know and discovered that Miles Cunningham’s character had been less than sterling, she might start feeling guilty. And there was nothing to be gained by that, either.
Sitting up, Abbey shook her head. “What do you think I should do?”
“If it was me, I’d let it go.”
She nodded. For now, that seemed like the best thing to do. “How do I find out if I have any witchy powers?”
“Witchy?” Nick chuckled. “What are you thinking? That you can twitch your nose and make things disappear?”
“Can I?”
“How should I know? I’m a vampire, not a witch. Give it a try and see what happens.”
“Yeah, right. I love you, Nick.”
“That’s magic all by itself.”
“Why do you say that?”
&nbs
p; “You’re a young, beautiful, talented woman, and I’m an ancient vampire. You don’t think there’s magic involved?”
Murmuring, “Just love,” she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Can I taste you?”
“Sure. As long as I can taste you in return.”
“Deal.”
She sat back while he bit into his wrist, then held it out to her. She regarded the blood a moment, then lowered her head and lapped it up like a kitten with a bowl of cream. It sizzled through her, making her feel vibrant and alive, as if she could climb Everest or leap tall buildings in a single bound.
“That’s enough, love. My turn now.” He sealed the shallow wound in his wrist, then drew her gently into his arms. After brushing the hair away from her neck, he laved the skin beneath her ear with his tongue before lowering his head to her throat.
Abbey sighed as she felt the prick of his fangs, wondering again why it didn’t hurt, and how anything so bizarre could feel so wonderful.
She knew a moment of regret when he drew back. His tongue was warm against her neck as he sealed the tiny wounds left by his fangs.
Feeling deliciously content, she snuggled against him, her head resting against his chest, one arm wrapped around his waist. Soon, he would carry her to bed. Just the thought made her heart skip a beat.
Making love to Nick was an incredible experience. Poets always talked about two people becoming one. She had always assumed it was just a figure of speech, but in their case, it was true. It wasn’t just their bodies that came together, but their hearts and minds, as well. He knew her better than she knew herself, knew what she wanted before she did.
Nick stroked her cheek. “You seem very introspective. What are you thinking about?”
“Do you think I’d like being a vampire?”
“What brought that up?”
“Oh . . . um . . . I just wondered if it would enhance our lovemaking.”
Nick drew back a little so he could see her face. “Are you complaining?”
“No, never. I mean, it’s wonderful. I love that I know what you’re feeling and everything, but . . . well, you’ve got all these amazing preternatural senses and . . .”
Nick chuckled. “I’ve never heard of anyone wanting to be a vampire to improve their sex life.”
Punching him on the arm, she said, “It sounds awful when you put it like that!”
“Ow!”
“Oh, please, that didn’t hurt and you know it.”
“If you want to be a vampire, honey, I’m your go-to guy.”
“I didn’t say I want to be turned. I just wanted to know if you thought I’d like it.”
He shook his head, his expression pensive as his hand idly stroked up and down her back. “I honestly don’t know. On the plus side, my blood is ancient, which means you’d be powerful from the get-go. After a month or so, you’d be able to be awake during the day, although you might have to stay out of direct sunlight for a time. It would definitely heighten your senses,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “All of them.”
She scowled at him. “Pervert.”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”
“But the blood . . .” She grimaced. “How do you ever get used to that?” A few sips of Nick’s blood was one thing, but to drink enough to survive . . . yuck!
Nick shook his head. “I can’t believe you never discussed any of this with your folks. Weren’t you curious when you were a little girl?”
“Well, no, not really. My mom was human then and she made excuses for why my dad slept late and why he didn’t eat with us. And when I was old enough to understand . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. The blood. Tell me about the blood.”
“When you’re a vampire, drinking blood is normal. Natural.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. Giving up chocolate and pasta and bread and ice cream for a warm-liquid diet . . .” Abbey shook her head. “I just don’t think I’d want to do that.”
“It’s up to you, love.”
“Remember when you told me there wasn’t any future for us as long as you were a vampire? That you were afraid you’d turn me against my will, or that you’d drain me dry?”
Nick went still. “I remember.” Those possibilities worried him on a daily basis.
She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. “Do you still feel that way?”
He nodded. “I won’t lie to you, Abbey my love. You’re a constant temptation. If I ever do anything to make you afraid of me, or put you in fear for your life, all you have to do is tell me to leave and I’ll have to go. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s the real reason you put the house in my name, isn’t it? So I could revoke your invitation?”
He nodded.
“Nick, promise you won’t ever leave me.”
“Abbey . . .”
“No. You’re thinking it would be for the best if you just left and never came back, aren’t you?”
He didn’t deny it.
“Promise me, Nick. I can stand anything as long as you’re with me.”
“All right, love, I promise I won’t leave you.”
He just hoped it was a promise he could keep.
During the next few days, whenever she was alone, Abbey tried to discover whether she possessed any supernatural powers. She tried opening doors by willing them to open. She stared at a candle, trying to light it with the power of her mind, the way Nick lit a fire in the hearth. Nothing happened.
She tried to levitate.
She tried to pick the ace of spades out of a deck of cards.
She bought a book of spells and read it from cover to cover, hoping to find the secret to unleashing whatever power she had. Nothing happened.
“Some witch,” she muttered when she tried to conjure fire, and failed again. According to the book, it was supposed to be one of the easiest spells to master.
There were all kinds of magic—mud magic, rain magic, herb magic. Cauldron magic. Cauldrons had long been associated with witches, along with brooms, pointy hats, warts, and black cats. Cauldrons had also been considered a potent magical tool since before recorded history because they utilized all four of the natural elements. Fire heated the vessel, water filled it, herbs used in spells represented the earth, the steam it created represented the air. Cauldrons were especially associated with feminine magic.
Maybe what she needed was a big black pot and a pointy hat?
And maybe she needed to forget about magic altogether. Just because she had read Nick’s mind a few times didn’t mean she was a witch.
Maybe she had inherited a bit of psychic power from her biological father.
And maybe it was all just a coincidence.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Edna smiled at James. It was their second date. Earlier, they had gone bowling, something she hadn’t done in longer than she could remember. And her dismal scores proved it. She hadn’t even broke a hundred on their first game. She had done better the second two, scoring 129 and 142. James, the stinker, had bowled a 275, a 260, and a 280. It had been a great deal of fun. But then, just being with James was fun. She realized with something of a shock that laughter and good times had been sorely lacking in her life until now. Odd, she had never noticed it before.
Now, they were sitting on a park bench, holding hands and just enjoying each other’s company. She had grown very fond of the man. He was such a sweet guy, with a warm, ready smile and a dry sense of humor.
“So,” he said, apropos of nothing. “How long have you been a vampire?”
Caught completely off guard, Edna squeaked, “Who, me?”
James laughed softly. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Monroe told me.”
“But . . . how did he find out?”
“From Anita, of course.”
“I can’t believe she told him.”
“She didn’t have to tell him. We already knew. That stuff you’re wearing to hide your scent, I’ve used it mysel
f. So, even though you didn’t smell like a vampire, only vampires use it.”
“And hunters,” Edna said.
“Really? Damn, I didn’t know that.”
She nodded.
“Have you and Anita been friends a long time?”
“Oh, yes, years and years. We were turned on the same night by the same vampire.”
“I thought maybe you turned each other.”
“Heavens, no! Who brought you across?”
“Monroe. His son brought him across.”
“Really? I can’t imagine anyone asking for the Dark Gift.”
“Well, Monroe had only a few weeks to live and he asked his son to bring him across. And I asked Monroe a week later.”
“I was turned against my will. Anita, too. But, all things considered,” she said, smiling at him again. “I’m glad it happened.”
“So am I,” James said, his gaze intent upon her face, “or I never would have met you.”
If she’d been able, Edna knew she would have been blushing. Pearl was always accusing her of being boy crazy and in a way, it was true. She’d always had an eye for a good-looking man. As a young woman, she had been a bit of a flirt. So, she liked men. There was no law against it. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been this attracted to a man. Sighing, she wished suddenly that she was younger, prettier.
“Brittany? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I . . . you . . . we just met.”
He shrugged. “I don’t suppose people’s feelings have anything to do with the calendar.”
“No,” she said, feeling as though the sun was shining in her heart. “I guess they don’t.”
“Coming to New Mexico is the best decision we ever made,” Pearl remarked as she finished unpacking her suitcase.
“You won’t get any argument from me.” Edna frowned as she watched Pearl hang several dresses—all in bland or neutral colors—in the closet. “I’m getting awfully tired of brown and beige and navy. Aren’t you?”
Pearl nodded. “But better safe than sorry, I always say.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so,” Pearl said, and then grinned. “Did I tell you that Monroe said if he ever met the person who killed Lou McDonald, he’d pat them on the back and buy them a drink? You don’t know how hard it was for me to keep from telling him the truth.”