The balloon did cheer me up more than I would have guessed. It reminded me of going to the National Exhibition with my mother every fall when I was a kid. Popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, and balloons. High calorie memories with a little bit of helium and latex thrown in for good measure. Those were good times.
I’d needed the walk to clear my head. My head was officially cleared, so I returned to the huge townhome I shared with my fiancé and let myself in.
Immediately, I sensed there was something different there. A big clue to this was the large black suitcase placed at the front door.
I heard Thierry on the phone, speaking French to someone. I didn’t speak the language, despite taking it all the way through high school. Thierry was fluent since he was originally from France centuries ago.
Yes, my fiancé was significantly older than me—by about six hundred years or so.
Some of the words I understood:
“Aujourd’hui,” which I knew meant today.
“Seul,” which meant alone.
“D’accord,” which meant alrighty.
“Importante” . . . well, that one didn’t really need a translator.
Thierry entered the front foyer with his phone pressed to his left ear. He stopped when he saw me standing there gaping at him.
“A bientôt, Bernard.” He slipped the phone into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket. “Sarah, I was about to call you. I’m glad you’ve returned.”
He didn’t have an accent. His English was flawless, since he’d spoken it for at least five hundred years.
Thierry de Bennicoeur appeared to be in his midthirties. He was six feet tall, had black hair that was usually brushed back from his handsome face, and piercing gray eyes that felt like they could see right through you clear to the other side. He always dressed in black Hugo Boss suits, which wasn’t the most imaginative wardrobe choice but looked consistently perfect on him anyway. He was, in a word, a total fox. Even after all the time we’d spent together, there was no doubt in my mind about that.
Some people perceived him to be cold and unemotional, but I knew the truth. That façade was for protection only. Down deep, Thierry was fire and passion. Only . . . it was really down deep. Most people would never see that side of him, and I was okay with that. I had the rock on my finger that proved I had seen the fire and hadn’t been burned yet.
However, I had to admit, that suitcase was causing a few painful sparks to fly up in my general direction.
“What’s going on?” I asked cautiously. “What’s with the luggage?”
“I have to go somewhere.”
“Where? And . . . when?”
The line of his jaw tightened. “I’ve been called upon to meet with someone about some important Ring business in Las Vegas.”
The Ring was the vampire council. Thierry was the original founder of the organization that tracked any potential vampiric issues worldwide and did what they could to neutralize them. He’d left a century ago after dealing with some personal issues and he hadn’t looked back since. The Ring had carried on without his input or influence.
“What business?” I asked.
“I’ve been offered a job with them. One I can’t decline.”
My eyes widened. “What kind of job?”
“Consultant.”
“What do you mean you can’t decline it?”
He hesitated. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Who were you just talking to, Don Corleone?”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “His name is Bernard Du-Shaw. He was the most recent of several people I’ve spoken with over the last couple of hours. It’s his position I would be taking over now that he’s retiring.”
I thought of my parents settling in to Florida’s sand and sunshine now that they’d reached their retirement years. “He’s immortal, isn’t he? He doesn’t ever have to retire.”
“After a contracted term with the Ring, one is permitted to leave to pursue other interests if one wishes to. He wishes to.”
I tried to breathe normally. Contrary to one of many popular myths about vampires, we needed to do that regularly. “Okay. Well, the universe does work in mysterious ways. I guess this isn’t a bad thing. I think you’d be a great asset for them. Keep them from making any mistakes or judging anyone too harshly without a proper assessment. So . . . you’re going today to meet with Bernard about this job?”
“Yes.”
“And when will you be back?”
His expression was unreadable. “Perhaps you should sit down, Sarah.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” My anxiety spiked. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
His expression tensed. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be returning to Toronto. The position calls for constant travel. I won’t be able to stay in one place for very long during my term as consultant.”
I tried to absorb all of this, but it was too much all at once. “How long is a term?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Fifty years.”
I just looked at him, momentarily rendered speechless by this unexpected news. Silence stretched between us.
His gaze moved to my balloon. “What’s this?”
My mouth felt dry. “My happy happy balloon. I got it from a clown named Mr. Chuckles.”
His lips curved at the edges. “I thought you were going to the airport.”
“I did.”
“You stopped by a circus on the way home?”
“Thierry,” I said sharply. “What the hell is going on? How can you just leave? Fifty years? It sounds like a prison sentence, not a new job. Are you saying . . . are you saying that—” I didn’t want to speak my thoughts aloud. After everyone else I loved putting thousands of miles between me and them, perhaps I should have expected this. But I hadn’t. This was a complete and total shock.
Everyone was leaving me. And now Thierry was joining the list.
“Sarah—”
“I heard you on the phone. You said seul, which means you’re going alone.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s what they want. This job requires focus and 24/7 availability. I assumed you wouldn’t want to travel so much, never knowing where you’re going next. There’s a great deal of uncertainty involved with this job.”
“This job that you can’t say no to for some mysterious reason. A job that you’re going to be doing for half of a damn century all by yourself with no prior warning.” I crossed my arms tightly. Everything about this made me ill. “You know, maybe this job came at just the right time for you to change your mind about being with—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.” He took me by my shoulders, gazing fiercely into my eyes. “All I want is for you to be happy, don’t you know that by now?”
I swallowed hard. “The clown thought a balloon would make me happy.”
“And did it?”
“For a couple of minutes.”
He looked up at it. “It is a nice balloon.”
“Screw the balloon.” My throat felt so tight it was difficult to speak.
I knew people had their own agendas, their own destinies to chase, and most of the time those destinies were not meant to intertwine. Thierry’s and my path hadn’t been an easy one, not since the very first moment we met. It wasn’t every day a twenty-eight-year-old fledgling hooked up with a six-hundred-year-old master vampire—we were so completely different in temperament and personality it was frequently glaring and often problematic. But we had and it felt right, but somehow I knew, down deep, that it might not last forever. Forever was a very long time when you’re a vampire.
Just because I knew it didn’t mean my heart didn’t break into a million pieces at the thought of losing him.
I tried to compose myself as much as possible after realizing that someone else I cared about would be moving away from me. This, though . . . this stung even more than saying good-bye to Amy. This felt permanent. Forever.
I wanted to be cool about gettin
g dumped for a “job he couldn’t refuse,” but I wasn’t sure if I had it in me.
My heart ached and my words twisted with the pain I felt. “I get it, Thierry. You don’t want to be distracted by someone who has a tendency to get into trouble at the drop of a hat. I can take a hint. I’m a liability. You want me to stay here.”
He let out a small, humorless laugh. “What I want is irrelevant. Can you honestly say you’d come with me if I gave you that choice? Would you leave behind your life here in Toronto, everything you’ve ever known and most of your possessions, in order to accompany me on a job that will be frequently boring for you, never knowing where your true home is?”
I stared up at him, my eyes burning. “Are those rhetorical questions?”
“No, they’re real questions.” His brows drew together. “Would you come with me if I asked you to?”
I let go of the balloon, which floated up to the high ceiling of the front foyer before catching on a sharp crystal from the chandelier. It popped on contact.
I grabbed the lapels of his black jacket. “In a heartbeat.”
Something I rarely saw slid behind his gray eyes then, something warm and utterly vulnerable. “Then I suggest you quickly pack a bag. Our flight leaves in three hours.”
My eyes widened. “Our flight?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d be open to this abrupt change, but I did purchase you a ticket just in case.”
A smile blossomed on my face at the exact moment a hot tear splashed to my cheek. “You’re so prepared. Just like a Boy Scout.”
“I try.” A smile played at his lips. “I just hope that this trip doesn’t make you change your mind about you and me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My smile only grew wider before faltering just a little. “But I thought they wanted you to come alone. Won’t they give you a hard time about this?”
“If they want me for this job, then they will get my fiancée as well. They’ll just have to deal with it.” He took my face between his hands. “I love you, Sarah. Never doubt it.”
He kissed me, and I couldn’t think of any happy happy balloon that could make me this happy happy.
Change was good. I liked change.
Berkley Sensation Titles by Michelle Rowen
THE DEMON IN ME
SOMETHING WICKED
THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC
NIGHTSHADE
BLOODLUST
Anthologies
PRIMAL
(with Lora Leigh, Jory Strong, and Ava Gray)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
Teaser chapter
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
Teaser chapter
Michelle Rowen, That Old Black Magic
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