“Honestly, the whole thing was one big walking cliché. I got there. I started drinking. Everyone was drinking. I mean, it was a college party, duh. I remember dancing out by the pool. Having a great time. And then…things sort of got fuzzy around the edges. I guess I passed out.”
My heart started beating a little faster as my mind revisited the scene. I wondered if I should stop talking. Surely he could fill in the blanks. It was a tale as old as time, after all.
“Go on,” he said.
I closed my eyes, biting my lower lip for a moment before continuing. “I woke up in a bed. My underwear was at my ankles. There was someone on top of me—it was dark, I couldn’t see who it was at first. I cried out, trying to get him to stop. To leave me alone. But my head was still so fuzzy. My tongue so thick—it wasn’t working right. He pressed a hand to my mouth to stop me from screaming. He leaned down and whispered in my ear.” I swallowed hard. “That’s when I realized who it was.”
“Your boyfriend,” Logan concluded. Not looking happy.
I nodded, staring down at the floor, no longer able to look at him. “I let him finish. I didn’t say anything else. I probably should have fought harder. But at the time I didn’t know if I had the strength. And what did it matter at that point anyway? He was already halfway done. I thought—if I could just suck it up. Get through it somehow, it’d be over. And then I could pretend it never happened.”
“Oh Hannah,” Logan’s voice was filled with pity, warring with fury.
I waved him off. I had to finish. I’d gone too far to stop now. “When he was done, he rolled over and basically passed out. I tried to sleep, too. But my heart was racing. Finally, I got up. I staggered out of the bedroom. People were staring at me as I walked through the living room. I could hear them giggling. Whispering. Not surprising, I suppose. I must have looked a sight. I walked straight out the front door, not even bothering to find my shoes. Walked four miles to get home.”
“You didn’t go to the police?”
I hung my head. “I did actually. Well, sort of. Once I got home my mother took one look at me and dragged me to the hospital. They did an examination. Found out I’d been roofied. I begged them not to call the cops, but it was a crime; they had to report it.” I made a face. “The next day it was all over school. Jake had been arrested. Suspended, too. And kicked off the football team. That was probably the worst part. He was their star player. In their minds I had lost the season for them.”
Such a slut.
Totally asked for it.
Then…ruined his life.
The tears welled in my eyes as my mind relived those horrible weeks that followed. The weeks that would haunt me forever.
“The good thing was, it sort of killed my social life,” I said, giving him a rueful smile. “Which made me start writing.” I shrugged. “The rest is history, I guess.”
Logan rose from the chair. Walked over to the bed. For a moment he just looked down at me. His eyes rimmed with red. Then he dropped to his knees, opening his arms. Inviting, but not insisting. Which made my heart swell.
I threw myself into his embrace. An embrace that was so strong, it was almost crushing—yet felt so good at the same time. Solid, real, infused with strength. My muscles relaxed. My body melting into his. I pressed my face against his chest, breathing in his warm, comfortable scent. He smelled like the forest. A wild, dark forest. Dangerous, yet at the same time, so safe. As if nothing bad could possibly happen when locked in his arms. And as he stroked my hair, his fingernails lightly scraping against my scalp, I felt more at peace than I could remember feeling for ages. Maybe ever.
“Is it wrong that I want to kill him?” Logan whispered in my ear, his voice husky and angry in a way that sent chills down my spine. “Drain every last drop of blood from his body?”
I found myself smiling against him. “You’d drain someone dry for me?”
“Sweetheart, I’d rip them from limb to limb.”
The fierceness in his voice sent chills winding through me again. I sucked in a shaky breath, my insides flip-flopping like a fish out of water. I thought about his words back at that book signing. How I didn’t know how to write real men. And maybe he was right. I certainly never wrote anyone like him.
I pulled away from our embrace. Until I met his eyes with my own. They were filled with such a strange mixture of fury and admiration. My mouth parted. My heart pounded in my chest. I found myself leaning forward. My fear evaporating. Replaced by the nearly overwhelming desire to taste him again.
But before I could, he placed a finger to my lips. I watched as he slowly shook his head.
“No,” he said.
“What?” I stared at him, confused. “What do you mean, no?” I demanded, frustration spilling over. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
He gave me an agonized look. “Believe me, I want nothing more in the entire world than to kiss you right now. But I won’t do it.”
“I don’t understand.” My mind raced, suddenly panicked. “Is it because of what I told you? Do you think I’m…dirty or something?” I bit my lower lip. “Used?”
He looked horrified. “No!” he cried. “That never crossed my mind!” He pulled me to him, sitting me on his lap. He reached out, stroking my cheek with a gentle hand. I knew he could crush me with little effort. And yet, he was so gentle. So fucking gentle. As if I were a doll he was afraid to break.
“Sweetheart, you have been through so much. And to rush you into something else—before you are ready? I would be as bad as him. I will not take advantage of you. I will not take what you’re not ready to give. I will wait until you are truly ready.” He paused, a small smile crossing his face. “After all, vampires have all the time in the world.”
My heart squeezed. The emotions driving through me now, too hard and fast to catalog. The words he spoke, the consideration he gave. The fact that he cared enough, respected me enough. It was almost too much to bear.
“Come,” he said, gesturing to the bed. He pulled back the covers, revealing crisp, white sheets. I reluctantly crawled under the blanket. He replaced it over me.
Then he leaned down, kissing my forehead. Such a light kiss, I should have barely felt it. Yet it burned against my skin as if it had set me on fire. I looked up at him, affection streaming through me. Gratitude making it difficult to speak.
“Thank you,” I said at last. It sounded so lame coming from my lips, but I didn’t know what else to say.
He smiled. Then he walked around the bed and sank into the chair again. Closed his eyes. I watched him for a moment, taking him in. Wondering what he was thinking. What he thought of me. Then I snuggled under the covers, pulling my knees to my chest. Trying to get comfortable. Trying to still my fast-beating heart.
I had just settled in when there was a crisp knock on the door. I opened my eyes, my heart pounding all over again. I glanced over at Logan who had risen from his chair and was walking across the room. He gave me an apologetic glance.
“Sorry,” he said. “I think it’s my donor. I forgot she was coming.”
I sat up in bed, pulling the covers to my chin. Logan opened the door, revealing a young girl with long black hair that tumbled down her back in waves. She was beautiful, voluptuous, and wearing a skin-tight black dress that accentuated every curve of her body and every swell of her envious breasts. Wow. Logan had said he used a blood donor. He didn’t say she was a raven haired Marilyn Monroe.
“There you are, handsome,” she purred, stepping into the room. I watched as she reached out, dragging a well-manicured fingernail down Logan’s chest. “How long has it been?” she added. “Poor boy. You must be simply starving!”
Logan let out a low growl, deep in his throat. Almost feral in its intensity. His eyes locked onto her body, giving her a greedy look. He stepped forward, then stopped short. Seeming to remember he and his little blood chick weren’t alone. He glanced back at me.
“Sorry,” I stammered, feeling suddenly like an interloper. “Should I ge
t out of your way?”
He pursed his lips. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You stay and get some sleep. We can do this elsewhere.”
I watched as he put a possessive arm around the girl, leading her out of the room. She smiled up at him, as if they shared some kind of secret—just between the two of them. When they closed the door behind them, I collapsed back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my heart wrenching in my chest. Trying not to imagine them alone together. His lips on her neck. Her soft mews as his fangs sank into her willing flesh.
While I lay here alone.
I felt the tears slip from the corners of my eyes. I rolled over to my side, again pulling my knees to my chest. Trying to hug away the sudden intense feeling of loneliness. The helplessness that rose through me like a tidal wave. I thought back to our encounter just a few moments before. When the lust in his eyes had been focused on me. He’d wanted me. He was ready to take me. But I had refused him—turned him away. Who was I now to feel bad about him going to someone else? Someone who wouldn’t make him feel like a jerk.
“She’s just dinner,” I told myself. “She doesn’t mean anything to him.”
But, of course, that wasn’t true. Of course she meant something to him. After all, she could give him something. Something he wanted. Something he needed.
Unlike little old me. Unable to give anything at all.
14
I woke up sometime later to find Logan sitting in the chair, reading something on his phone. Stretching my arms over my head, I released a long yawn. I couldn’t believe how great I had slept, considering the place and circumstances. I should have been tossing and turning in fear. Instead, I’d conked out like a baby.
Logan looked up from his phone. He gave me a slow smile. “You’re awake,” he said.
“I guess so.” I sat up in bed, brushing my hair back from my shoulder. “God, I slept like the dead.”
“It’s the being underground,” he explained. “There’s no light. There’s no sound. It’s very conducive to sleep.”
“What about you? I mean, that chair couldn’t have been comfortable,” I said, giving him a sheepish look. In the light of day the whole thing seemed so ridiculous. So embarrassing. I couldn’t believe I had led him on like that, then yanked away. He must think I was a total freak.
But his smile never wavered. “It was fine,” he assured me, stretching his arms and legs, as if to prove his point. Instead he almost fell off the chair. He laughed and stood up. “Okay, I admit. It wasn’t the most comfortable sleep I’ve ever had. But it’s all good.”
I groaned, throwing myself back on the pillow. “Seriously, I am the worst damsel in distress ever,” I said.
“I don’t know about that,” he shot back. “And at least you’re a damn good kisser.”
Oh. My. God.
My face flamed. I grabbed the pillow and pulled it over my head. Logan laughed and grabbed it from me. I tried to wrestle it back, but, of course he was too strong. Cause, you know. Vampire.
But I wasn’t about to be thwarted. I grabbed the other pillow and threw it in his direction. It him square in the chest. He waggled his eyebrows at me.
“Oh I see,” he said. Then he grabbed both pillows and charged me. I ducked, but it was no use. I was hit with both of them square on.
“Uncle!” I protested as he jumped onto the bed. “Uncle!”
He laughed, but dropped the pillows. Then he lay, out of breath, on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, I lay next to him, so close we were almost touching, yet frustratingly still inches apart. I knew it wouldn’t take much to make that move. To cross that boundary again. To climb on top of him, straddle his thighs. To lean down and kiss him senseless.
But then what? What if my anxiety returned? I couldn’t lead him on, then push him away a second time. That would just be cruel. And what if he decided he’d had enough of me? That I wasn’t worth his time or attention?
No. It was better to wait. At least until I felt more comfortable. Till I got control of my senses. And maybe until we were out of danger. Now there was a thought. It was tough to remember, actually, that we were technically still on the run. Still in fear of our lives. This bedroom felt like the perfect hideaway. As if there was no one left in the world outside.
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning over and propping his body up on his elbow. He reached out, tracing my cheek with a careful finger. It was such a simple gesture. And yet done with such tenderness. My heart squeezed.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I mean, as fine as I can be, under the circumstances.”
His face sobered. “Yeah,” he said. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
I reached out, pressing a finger to his lips this time. “No more apologies,” I scolded. “I wasn’t exactly an innocent party to all of this either. I refuse to let you take all the blame.”
“You’re sweet,” he said. “But I must insist on all of the blame.” His mouth quirked. “That’s how I roll.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. “You know, I keep expecting you to say all these weird old vampire things,” I said. “And I keep forgetting you’re like the only vampire who’s not a thousand years old.”
“There are plenty of younger vampires,” he assured me. “Like your little fan Rayne MacDonald. She’s only about ten vampire years old.”
“So…that makes her, what? Like twenty-six? Twenty-seven? She looks like a teenager.”
“She was turned as a teen. She had a terrible virus and was going to die. And so Jareth made her his Blood Mate.”
“Aw. That’s pretty romantic actually,” I said with a dreamy sigh. “Just like in one of my novels.”
To my surprise Logan said nothing. When I glanced over at him I saw the playful look had vanished from his face.
It was then that I remembered what he’d said about his own Blood Mate back at his house. How she’d killed herself, bored with life. I suddenly wondered if there was more to it than that.
What had their relationship been like when she was still alive? Had she been more to him than simply a blood surrogate? Had they been together at one point? Blood Mates, lovers, husband and wife? Was he devastated when she took her own life? Did he still hold out feelings for her?
“So…your Blood Mate…” I started, suddenly feeling desperate to know. “Was she—”
Logan jerked from the bed. Stalked to the end of the room. The one that, if this were a hotel, would have had been lined with windows. But since we were underground he had to stare at a blank wall.
Okay, then. Guess we wouldn’t be talking about that.
“Sorry,” I said, walking over to him. Feeling brave, I reached out and took his hand in mine, squeezing it a little. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
He turned to me, his expression anguished. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “It’s just…” He sighed. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one with a painful past.”
I gave him a rueful smile, my heart swelling with affection, mixed with sorrow. It was so strange to look at him now. To see the same big, bad vampire who had come off as such an arrogant asshole when I first met him. Now I saw there was so much more to him. A depth and sadness he’d been desperately trying to hide.
I wanted to ask a billion questions. But I realized I wanted him to be ready to answer when I did. After all, I knew all too well what it was like to be asked questions you weren’t ready for. Certainly enough people had done that to me all my life.
And so, instead, I turned to him. “What now?” I asked. “Do we just…hang out in the room for the day? Until Jareth figures everything out?”
He looked at me. Then a smile crossed his face. “Not that staying in this room with you doesn’t sound amazing,” he said slyly and I felt my face blush hard. “But there are other…amusements in the Coven. Things we might do to pass the time.”
“Like what?” I asked, suddenly curious. Then I giggled. “If you say hang gliding…”
He laug
hed, Then he reached out and grabbed my hand. “Come with me,” he said.
And so I did.
15
“A kitchen?” I cried as we walked into the room, not able to hide the astonishment in my voice. “Why on Earth does a vampire coven have a kitchen?”
And it wasn’t just any kitchen either. It was huge, with all Viking stainless steel appliances and expensive looking quartz countertops. I thought back to my barely functional kitchen at home and shook my head.
“You guys don’t even eat!” I added, running my hand along the smooth countertop.
“But some of us love to cook.”
I turned to Logan, surprised. He shrugged. “I was a sous chef at a Michelin starred restaurant in New York City back when I was human. Old habits die hard.”
“Wow.” I gave a low whistle. “I had no idea.”
It was crazy, actually. I mean, not the chef thing. But the fact that he’d had this complete life before becoming a creature of the night. A normal human life—having lived more years that I had before turning. Here I kept pressing him on his sire, who had made him a vampire. As if that moment was all that mattered—and what came after it. But there was so much more to him. And that had to be part of him still.
“Well then, Chef,” I said with a smile, sidling up to the breakfast bar. “What’s on the menu?”
“I can whip up pretty much anything you like,” he said. “But you have to assist.”
Oh no. I shook my head. “Trust me, dude, you do not want my help. I, like, burn water when trying to boil it. I’d die of starvation if it weren’t for delivery.”
“Perhaps you have never had a good teacher,” Logan said smoothly, walking over and handing me an apron. I reluctantly slipped it over my shoulders. He walked around and tied the strings. I tried and failed not to notice how his hands felt, working against the small of my back, sending a delicious shiver up my spine.
I swallowed hard, stepping forward when he had finished. Mostly to remove the urge to lean back and grind up against him. Cause that would be weird. We were cooking! There was no sex in cooking!