A Fall of Silver (15 page)

She couldn’t forget the lessons she’d learned
in Mexico.

Anger
had given her strength. Fear and uncertainty only led to weakness. The lesson was simple: never trust a vampire, or someone who worked with vampires.

Her heart felt like a rock in her chest as she lay
between damp, twisted sheets, listening to Kethan. He settled himself more comfortably in his chair. Why couldn’t she reach out and touch his hand? Just once. Just to feel the warmth of his skin against her palm.

Instead, she
pulled the blanket tighter. She closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax regardless of what twisted in the darkness of her mind, waiting for release as she slept.

She had always been alone.

She would always be alone.

Forget any alternative.

* * * * *

The next morning,
Quicksilver got up first and dressed quickly, trying to be as noiseless as possible. When Kethan finally woke up and dressed, she was already waiting in the kitchen. By the time he was ready, she had edged toward the door, eager to escape from the enforced intimacy of her apartment. He followed, but too closely, too near. The scents of soap, tinged with the leathery scent of his rumpled clothing surrounded him. Unable to look him in the face, she plucked her jacket from the hook next to the door, sure her eyes would reveal the flaring desire burning inside her, or worse, that he’d guess she’d lain awake last night, listening to him breathe and wishing she had a larger bed, anything other than a narrow, army cot.

As she brushed past him in
the doorway, a sudden rush of attraction slowed her step into a breathless pause. She could feel him at her back, one foot in her apartment, one foot on the stoop. His scent drifted over her shoulder, and she breathed deeply. Her mind flashed to the image of two bodies sinking into the thick foam of a mattress, leaving their heated impressions in the softness. The slightly salty scent of his skin would saturate the pillow and linger. After he’d gone, her hand might still find the slight, warm indentations left by his heavy shoulders and his scent might linger on her pillow when she buried her face in its depths.

Wha
t she wouldn’t give to have those memories. Her heart ached for it.

Then her cool, practical side brushed away
such foolishness. She’d been smart when she purchased a single bed, barely wide enough for her. There were no blankets, either, nothing that might tempt her to escape her routine and relax, or become soft enough to believe someone’s lies again.

There was no room for another person in her life.

Not to mention there was barely enough room for him on her bike.

His hard thighs pressed against hers
after they climbed on, and her hands tightened on the grips. Despite her determination to ignore him, she couldn’t control the excitement pulsing through her lower belly. She started the bike and careened through the alley, convincing herself she’d be glad when she dropped him off.

He touche
d her shoulder briefly and gestured toward a side street. She turned the bike and leaned into the curve, feeling him match her position effortlessly. As if psychically linked, she followed his casual hand signals through the streets. Pale, golden sunlight streamed over them, heating the air as they sped through the quiet morning. The oaks lining the road blazed with crimson and gold autumnal color, glowing with the vibrant colors of life. She smiled with the sense of rich excitement just to be alive and sharing the moment with another person on such a glorious morning.

To her surprise
, Kethan lived less than a mile away in an area undergoing renewal at the fringe of the business district. A block of small, neat townhouses occupied the left side of the street, directly across from a Catholic church.

Kethan
squeezed her shoulder as they neared the middle of the block. Driven by something she didn’t understand, she gunned the motorcycle. The tires squealed as they shot past, her heart racing as she desperately sought to prolong the moment. They spun around the block while the wind whipped beneath her jacket and through her thin shirt, and his thighs and hard hands gripped her waist.

The feeling was exhilarating.

Abruptly they were in front of the church again, and there was no excuse to swoop around the block another time, breathing in the cold air and crisp, organic scent of fallen leaves and tinge of hot exhaust. She slowed and reluctantly came to a stop at the curb.

The townhouse
on their right was built from mellow, reddish bricks, set off with white window frames and glossy black shutters. The bright red door had a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head that glowed like beaten gold in the autumn sunshine.

He eased off the bike and
waited for her. For one moment, she wondered if she should pour on the gas and leave him there staring after her. The mere thought left her cold, empty, as if the sun had passed behind a thunderhead. She pulled off the helmet and hung it over the handlebars by the chin strap, a sense of defiance stiffening her shoulders.

Why did she think he would invite her in or wanted to prolong this moment?

“Come on in,” he said.

“
Why?” A sudden perversity made her turn sideways, one hand on her cycle.

“I want to get a few things before we go back to your place.”

Go back to
her
place? Why? Surely he didn’t miss his monk’s cell that much that he felt at home in her utilitarian apartment. “No.”

“Would you prefer to stay here?
” His brows rose in surprise. Then he smiled. “Maybe it would be more comfortable. Unlike you, I do have a guest room. Even a spare toothbrush.”

“
Why have supplies if you don’t want guests?” She shrugged. “If you want ‘em, that’s your problem.”

“I enjoy company.” He gripped her elbow
, holding her arm on the pretext of supporting her while she stepped up on the curb to his sidewalk. “I know the situation is difficult, but I can’t allow you to be unprotected until the negotiations reconvene and conclude.”

“And afterwards?”

“Afterwards, you and I will sit down to hammer out an agreement that’ll keep us both alive and the children at the orphanage safe.”

“How?
How’re you going to do that?”

He gave her a slow
, dimpled grin that made her dizzy with longing. “Come on. We don’t need to discuss this here on the sidewalk, do we? Come inside.”

Feeling
chastised and small, she hesitated in front of his home. Curiosity itched like a mosquito bite. What would his house be like? What would it reveal about his character?

Wh
y did she care?

“No.”
She glanced up at the sky. Although it was just past noon, the sun already seemed to edge toward the horizon with a reddish tinge like the sweet flesh of a ruby grapefruit that reminded her that autumn days were short. Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand against her middle. She should have at least offered him breakfast before they left.

At least a can of tuna, which was pretty much all she had
at home.

No wonder she had
grapefruit on the mind. She felt as if she were starving.

“I’ll fix something to eat.”
He held out his hand to her, palm up and so large she could have placed both her hands on it side-by-side and barely covered his palm. Her hands fluttered until she thrust them into her pockets. His simple gesture made her ache to touch him. His skin looked calloused, slightly roughed by…what? What did Jesuits do but talk, argue, and apparently negotiate with the damned?

Nonetheless, she couldn’
t resist that outstretched hand for long.

“Lunch
. Then I’ve got to go. There’s only so much togetherness I can take.” She climbed the steps ahead of him and waited on the small stoop while he unlocked the door. “You can’t guard me, you know. Not forever. At some point, you’re going to have to let nature take its course.”

She caught his glance. The skin around his eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter, and her words echoed back to her, “nature take its course.” A flush heated her face as she realized he thought she’d meant something entirely different than vampire extermination.

He threw open the door. “In good time.” A dark brow rose, tempting her to lean closer and see about that nature thing. As she walked past, she caught the intense gleam of his blue eyes, brilliant as silk. “After you’ve had a chance to see reason.”

“I
see reason. You’re the one suffering from delusions.” She felt sure he could hear her heart pounding in her chest as he followed her inside.

“That remains to be seen.”
Flipping on the lights in the hallway, he paused by an arch that led into a sitting room on their right as if unsure about her reaction to his home.

She
stopped, overwhelmed and feeling as if she had taken a step backward in time to a period when craftsmen built houses by hand, taking their time on luxurious details.

Wood gleamed all aro
und. The floors, walls, and elegantly curving stairway were all crafted from rich, honey-toned oak. Sinuous, circular carvings ornamented the arches and crown moldings, reminding her of the natural lines and grace of Art Deco. The ceiling lamp was stained glass, shaped like an upside down rose done in delicate panes of pale pink and deep rose with touches of green. A lovely soft green and blue landscape painting hung on her left above a small, pale oak table.

Kethan threw his keys into a rectangular brass box resting in the center of the table.
He gave her a quick, shy glance before walking into the room on their right.

She
moved to the side awkwardly, as out of place as she’d feel if locked in a museum after hours. This house was so totally unlike her stark, utilitarian apartment and so unexpected.

She was no stranger to bachelor homes
, most ran to the extremes. Modern, barren quarters no better than hers were the most common, often furnished with expensive, artistic non-representational art and over-priced furniture no human could sit on for very long. The rest were the places with old, battered furniture smelling strongly of dogs and unwashed gym socks, where the guy had to collect an armful of dirty clothes and pizza boxes to clear a place to sit.

No matter which extreme, they all had king-sized beds
, and they all preferred to wake up in those large beds, satisfied and alone.

This home was different, it truly felt like a home. It
called to her and invited her in, showing warmth and touches of Kethan’s personality that lacked the superficial posturing ultra-modern trappings seemed to express or the lazy defeat of the sloppiest bachelor apartments.

She wanted to come inside and stay, waking up in a room with Art Deco crown moldings adorned with lotus blossoms in each corner.
Rocked by the sensation and afraid she was making a terrible mistake, she followed him into the living room.

“Make yourself at home.”
Kethan motioned toward a dark green loveseat that faced the huge bay window at the front of the house. “What would you like to eat?”

“Anything.
I’m not picky.”

“There’s a television in the corner, if you want to watch the news.
I’m going upstairs to change before I cook dinner.” He tried to remember what he had in the freezer. Chicken, maybe?

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll disappear while you’re gone?”

With one foot on the lowest step of the staircase, he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the top button. His shirt felt limp and stuck uncomfortably to his back. “Should I be afraid?”

“I never agreed to stay.”
Her eyes burned blue as he walked slowly back toward her.

“You’re not making this easy.”
He wished for once she’d relax and stop making everything a test of wills.

S
he shrugged. “Why should I?”

“Will you
please
stay?”

“No promises
.” She crossed her arms in the classic defensive gesture which was not the reaction he’d hoped to see. “I have things to do, errands to run.”

“How
can I convince you? Just stay long enough for me to shave and change.” He rotated his shoulders, his collar dragging at his neck unpleasantly. “And maybe take a shower. What can I do to persuade you to stay?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

She was pushing him, and he didn’t know why. Various ideas skittered through his mind like mice trying to elude a cat. With a sigh, he snagged a straight-backed chair from the dining room and carried it into the living room. Placing the chair down a few yards away from the television in the corner, he whirled her around and rested a hand on the back of her neck.

A tingle ran through his palm as it lay against the vulnerable, soft skin. The clean s
cent of her hair filled the air, and all he could think about was persuading her to stay here where she’d be safe.