Читать книгу Holiday with a Vampire: Christmas Cravings - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 8

Tessa poured coffee into a thermos, gathered up a blanket and her first-aid kit, then carried it all back to the barn. Her one guest, Joe Baston, had spent the night in town, visiting his daughter. Joe hadn’t wanted to put his daughter out—so he’d taken a room at the inn and so she had no one to make breakfast for and nothing to do except care for the man in her barn.

“What are you thinking, Tessa?”

Muttering to herself didn’t really help, but it had become a habit during the last few years. Before coming to Whisper, Wyoming, she hadn’t dared to make friends. Hadn’t even stayed in one spot for longer than two weeks at a stretch. She’d kept moving. Always wary. Always scared, damn it. Until she’d finally awakened one morning to decide that she was through looking at life through her rearview mirror.

So she’d found this place, worked like a dog to fix it up and now she was running her own business. True, it wasn’t much of a business yet, but that would change. All she needed was time.

Her stomach jittered uneasily and Tessa paused long enough to slap one hand to it in a futile attempt to calm herself. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is,” she said quietly, glancing at the barn just steps away. “He’s hurt. You’re going to help. Then he’ll leave. End of story. Everything back to normal.”

Except, just what was normal? She ran a B and B with only one guest. She lived on the outskirts of a town where she was still pretty much a stranger. Christmas was a week away and she was more alone than ever. And she hadn’t had sex in five years.

Normal?

By whose standards?

“Sex? Who’s talking about sex?” Taking a breath, she picked up the first-aid kit again and said, “You are, Tessa. And you should just cut it out now, got it?”

But who could blame her? The man in her barn, even injured, oozed sex from every pore. One look into those dark eyes and any woman with a pulse would want to throw herself at him. Tessa was no different—despite having plenty of reasons to know better. Completely disgusted with herself now, she headed for the barn before she could find an excuse not to.

The sun was up and slanting across the yard, glinting on the snow brightly enough to make her squint just to keep her eyes clear. Another storm was due, and judging by the thick clouds surrounding that clear spot where the sun clung stubbornly to the sky, it was going to be a big one.

The air was icy and every breath felt as though she were sucking knives into her lungs. The naked branches of the trees surrounding the house were draped in ice that looked like diamonds, dazzling in the sunlight. From a distance, the sound of a fastmoving creek came to her and Tessa paused again, just to enjoy the place she’d finally decided to call home.

Five long years of belonging nowhere, of owning nothing. Five years of using false names and never trusting a soul. Then one day, Tessa had driven down this lonely stretch of road, spotted this house and recognized home. She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t really been looking for it. But this spot, this place, had called to her. As if it had been standing vacant, just waiting for her to come home and bring it to life again.

The small miracle was, that as she’d brought the old Victorian back from its slumbers…the house had awakened her, too. It was as if she was finally becoming the woman she’d once been. The woman who danced in the kitchen. The woman who could enjoy a quiet moment in the stillness, just appreciating a beautiful day.

And because she’d found that miracle, she was strong enough to help a man who looked as though he could use one, too.

With that thought firmly in mind, she headed for the barn again. Her boots crunched in the snow and the wind whipped around her, sneaking icy fingers down the collar of the jacket she’d thrown on over her sweater.

She didn’t care though. It felt good to be alive. And if she was a little nervous about the stranger in her barn…it was a natural kind of nervousness. So that was good, too.

She rounded the corner, stepped through the open barn door and stopped. He was gone.

“Mr. Stone?” She took another step and now her boots clacked and echoed against the old wooden planks. “Mr. Stone.”

“Over here.”

Her head whipped to one side and she spotted him, all the way into the corner of the barn; he had his back to the wall and his gaze on her. All around him slivers of sunlight peeked through the roof like golden bars of a cell, holding him in place.

A niggling, ridiculous notion tugged at the back of her mind for a second before she could dismiss it. “Are you all right?”

“Great.” His voice was tight. “Your roof needs fixing.”

“Yeah, but it’s low on the list right now.” She walked toward him with slow steps. Funny, but she felt almost as if she were trying to ease up on a hungry tiger. He had a taut stillness about him that made her think of a predator. And that was almost enough to make her back out of the barn and leave him alone. But if she did that, then she would be surrendering to her own fears and she’d worked too hard to get past that time in her life. To rediscover her own courage and the spirit that had once been so completely crushed.

“Look,” she said, forgetting about the fact that just a few minutes ago she’d wanted him gone, “you don’t have to stay in the barn. I told you, you can come inside. It’s warmer there and the roof doesn’t sprout sunlight every few inches.”

He scraped one hand across his face, then focused his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she saw the flash of something molten in those dark depths.

“You don’t have to do this.” His voice rumbled out around her, soft, deep, almost hypnotic. “You should go back inside. Don’t come back here.”

“This is my barn,” Tessa reminded him. “Of course I’m coming back here.”

He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “You have no sense of self-pres-ervation at all, do you?”

“Excuse me?” She knelt on the floor beside him and opened the first-aid kit. “I’m not the one who was lying unconscious in the snow.”

“I appreciate what you did, but you should just go back to your house. I’ll be gone by nightfall.”

“To where? I didn’t see a car out front.” And as she said it, Tessa wondered just how in the heck he’d come to be in her yard, anyway. Had he walked from town? In the snow?

“That’s not your concern.” He moved farther from her, tucking himself deeper into the shadowy corner.

Just then, the sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and the barn darkened, the slanting bars of sunlight winking out as if they’d never been. And the man huddled against the barn wall sighed, as if in relief.

“More snow’s coming,” Tessa pointed out with a glance behind her at the open barn door. She could smell it on the wind and in a heartbeat, she made a decision. “You can’t leave. This storm is supposed to be a big one. You probably wouldn’t make it into town before it hit—even if you had a car.”

Scowling, he gritted his teeth and gave her a short nod. “You’re right. I’ll wait out the storm.”

“Not out here, you won’t.” She picked up the first-aid kit again and stood up, to look down at him. “You’ll freeze to death.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“So I can find your frozen dead body in the morning?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fine.” Grayson pushed himself to his feet and swayed a little, reaching out one hand to the wall to steady himself.

He was hungry. Every cell in his body cried out for blood and the temptation of having her so near to him was one he was hard put to ignore. Her eyes stared up at him with concern, though, and that was enough to at least momentarily bank the bloodlust clamoring inside.

She had helped him. He wouldn’t repay her by sinking his teeth into her lovely throat.

No matter how much he longed to.

He shot a quick look at the world beyond the barn and noted that the light was gray, clouds having obliterated the sun. He could make it to the house. And once inside, away from the light, he could gather his strength. Then he’d leave her before his hunger outstripped his sense of chivalry.

“Lean on me.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking her shoulder under his arm.

“This is getting to be a habit,” he muttered and was rewarded by the smile she flashed him.

“Let’s get you into the house.”

They made it across the yard and up the steps, with Tessa supporting his every stride. It had been a long time since Grayson had needed anyone’s help. And accepting that help didn’t come easily to him. Still, he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t get into the house and away from the danger of sunlight, he would die. And just at this moment, with Tessa’s scent filling him, he realized that he wasn’t ready to march into hell.

“Come on,” she said, opening the door. “Come inside and sit down near the fire.”

Her invitation was enough to let him pass the threshold and he stumbled through the kitchen with her help, into the wide living room where a fire blazed and crackled in the hearth. She eased him onto an overstuffed sofa crowded with colorful pillows and Grayson laid his head on the back of the couch. The fatigue seeping into every square inch of his body dragged at him.

He hadn’t been awake during daylight hours in decades. Now he remembered why. He battled unconsciousness, his thoughts becoming fuzzy, his breathing slowing. The scent of cinnamon hung in the air and mingled with the pine garland strung across the mantel. Christmas.

Not a particularly festive time in a vampire’s year.

Especially for him.

Being in this house again brought back memories so vivid, so alive, the empty room seemed to throb with them. He’d built this house himself. Moved his wife and children into it. Planned to live, grow old and die within its walls.

Well, he’d gotten one out of three right.

“Are you hungry?”

He turned his head to look at her. His gaze locked on the graceful column of her throat and he would have sworn he could actually see her pulse pounding there. Her blood would be warm and rich and sweet. He could almost taste it, flowing down his throat, slaking his thirst, easing his pain.

Deliberately, he closed his eyes. “No.”

“At least let me get you some coffee.”

“Fine. And—” he spoke quickly as she turned to go to the kitchen “—I’m expecting a delivery this afternoon. If I’m…asleep, will you sign for it?”

“Sure, but—”

“Thanks.” That one word was a dismissal and she obviously felt it. He wasn’t about to explain about the delivery of blood for which he’d arranged before he knew his house would be occupied. And, he told himself, his business manager was going to pay for it as soon as Grayson returned to New York.

“Okay, be right back.”

He listened to the fire, letting its soothing sounds settle over him. Memories crowded his mind as sleep dragged him down—images of a different place, a different time, danced through his mind, one after the other. He allowed them to fill him and welcomed the pain as he remembered the faces of his children. His wife’s voice.

Then the images shifted, changing, becoming the living nightmare that was never entirely gone.

His family’s screams echoed over and over again in his mind and Grayson jerked awake suddenly with a shriek erupting from his own chest.

The sun.

“Damn it!” He jolted from the couch and the wide beam of sunlight lying across it.

The windows were uncovered to welcome whatever winter sunlight made it through the clouds. And the once shadow-filled living room was now bathed in a golden light that had already burned patches of skin from his hands and face.

Skin smoking, eyes streaming, Grayson took one long leap and stood against the far wall, air wheezing from his lungs. His fangs exploded in his mouth and the adrenaline coursing through him turned him into a dangerous creature. Age-old instincts rippled through him and whatever there was left of the man he’d been drained away. He was now a wild thing—looking for survival above all else.

“Fool.” The day had made him slow and stupid. He should have secured the damn drapes. Made certain that no sun could reach him. But he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been so wrapped up in the past he’d forgotten about the present.

He squinted into the sunlight streaming through the window and screaming pain lanced through his mind and body. His chest felt tight, his lungs strained for air. His skin was ablaze with burning agony. He turned his gaze from the window, lifted one scorched hand to protect his eyes and spotted Tessa, who had stopped dead in the doorway.

As if in slow motion, she dropped the coffee cup she held. It shattered on the floor, brown liquid splashing up on her jeans. Her eyes wide, her mouth open, she looked at him and he knew exactly what she was seeing.

A monster.