Creature of Habit (Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter 16

Grant

We hunt at dusk. Carefully. Slowly.

I teach her the sounds of the forest. What the cracking of a branch may be. The difference in weight between a deer and a bird. I show her markings. The ones we want to follow—the others we avoid.

“See that,” I said, pointing to the fine silk hair clinging to a tree. “That’s an elk.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

I picked up the hair, just three short pieces and held them under her nose. “Smell them. That’s an elk. Different from a deer or other animal.” I took her hand and laid the hairs across her palm. “See the color?”

“Darker? Maybe redder?”

I smiled. “Exactly.”

She froze.

I watched.

She inhaled, nostrils flaring.

“What do you smell?”

She sniffed again. Stuck out her tongue. “Something small. To the north.”

She spun quick on her heel and darted into the woods. I followed, allowing her some space. Even as night fell, I tracked her easily. Saw her skin glint off the snow. Heard her footsteps and the faint
thump, thump
leading me to her.

Always.

She stumbled twice along the way, breaking branches on small shrubs. She grazed trees, leaving fibers behind. A piece of her hair clung to a log. When I reached her, she lay flat on the forest floor, a fluffy gray rabbit trapped under her body. Amelia and the animal had matching eyes—shining wide with fear. Their heartbeats raced together.

“Can I?” she asked. We’d done this for days now, but the rabbit was the first she’d trapped on her own.

“All yours.”

She fed. Messily. Ravenously, until there was only the one heartbeat pulsing through the woods. Hers.

Mine.

~*~

Ryan waited for us on the back step, sitting like a hulking statue. His eyes roamed over Amelia, stopping on her blood splattered shirt.

“Nice meal?” he asked in a soft voice.

“How are you, Ryan?” Amelia asked. She stood at an awkward distance. Probably afraid he’d try to hug her. I’d informed the family of her current physical limitations.

“I’ve been better.”

“Sebastian?” Amelia asked, surprising us. In her recent state, asking about others hadn’t been one of her priorities. Frustration, anger, and hunger seemed to be her focus.

“I’ve got some leads. Thank you for giving Grant that information—about the train tracks. It was him.”

“Good.”

She skirted past us without another word and closed the door with a loud, unintentional slam. Something heavy crashed to the floor.

“Shit,” she swore from the other side of the door.

Ryan laughed. “Poor girl. Sucks to be a fledgling—especially a micromanaged one.”

“I’m not micromanaging her.”

“No?”

I glared. “No.”

“You know the rest of us had a chance to blow off a little steam at first. Run wild. Kill a couple people. Spread some oats.” He cupped his hands together. “Starting off on the Palmer diet has to be tough.”

“She’s doing well.” He gave me a hard look. One that told me exactly how well he thought she was doing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he replied.

“You’ve heard the heartbeat—the blood. Does it tempt you?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “If I answer truthfully will you kick my ass?”

“No.” The other eyebrow raised to match the other. “No. I swear—just answer me.”

“There’s something there. A lure. Power maybe? What would it taste like? Would it be different? She’s immortal, feeding from her may have…”

“Benefits?”

He nodded and asked, “Have you?”

“No.”

“Thought about it?”

I shook my head. “No. Not any differently than I have for a while now. My desire for her is… well, it isn’t blood driven. I worked through that a long time ago.”

Ryan had confirmed my fears. Amelia’s transition was different. The consequences would be a challenge for all of us.

I kicked the snow and changed the subject. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your help with Sebastian.”

I looked to the trees. “You know I can’t right now.”

“I know you’re involved with Amelia. I understand this. But Sebastian has escalated. From what we can tell, I think he’s killed at least five other vampires. Miles had to notify The Council—after everything with Caleb.”

“What did they say?”

“That if I don’t stop him, they will.”

I exhaled and sat on the step next to Ryan. I opened my mouth to speak, and a loud crash sounded from in the house followed by a string of expletives. After a moment of silence we both burst into laughter.

“Clearly I can’t leave,” I said. “But we’ll figure something out. What can I do?”

“Neither Olivia or Elijah is in a position to go back in the field. But they can stay here. They’ll do whatever you ask.”

I ran my hand through my snow dampened hair. “Ryan…”

“Grant, help me track him—like you did with Caleb. Help me get my brother back.” The unspoken statement was about my involvement in Sebastian leaving. My relationship with Amelia that sent him over the edge.

I stared up at the sky—at the millions of stars above. “I’ll help. From here, and then when we’re ready, I’ll go with you.”

He threw a thick, muscular arm around my shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s what family is for.”

November 23

Dear Diary

I can't sleep. Not at all. I knew this going in. I knew Grant never slept but I didn't really understand what that meant.

The woods surrounding the cabin are quiet—yet not. Animals, wind, the house itself all create their own sound. The creaks and cracks. The whistles and howls.

The good news is some of the constant sounds have faded a bit. The hum of the refrigerator. The buzz of the computer. The furnace doesn’t shock me each time it sputters to life.

And my heart no longer jars me with every beat.

Grant said he doesn’t know why I have it—other than it’s connected to the necklace given to me by Olivia—a gift from the Melungeon. From Laurel. It carried magic of some kind, leaving me with a trace of my humanity. Stashed away in this box in the woods makes it hard for me understand what that means. Humanity. Do you have to see other humans to remember how to use that part of yourself?

I wouldn’t know.

November 24

Dear Diary

Grant reads during the down time. The house is filled with books and Genevieve sends in boxes almost weekly. Novels, history books, academic journals. He reads things in French, Latin, and Portuguese. When he tires of that he plugs in earbuds and listens to Podcasts. I hear the droning voices anyway but fight to push them aside. These shows, they’re about anything—or everything. No wonder he’s such a fucking smarty pants.

While he expands his mind I sit next to him on the couch, watching the flames in the fireplace lick the stone walls while holding an opened book in my lap. I try to read, but the words seem too big, too noisy, just like the tiny thumps in my chest, beating like a pendulum, and I lose focus. Grant promises this will pass, and that everything seems overwhelming at first, but eventually I will grow accustomed to the changes.

Last night he chose a book he thought I would like and read it for me out loud. For once, my mind settled as his voice brought the characters to life. I’d missed such luxuries and leaned back on the soft, cushioned couch while he wove magic with his words. While he spoke I watched a spider build her web as dust gathered on the window's ledge.

All in all, a good night.

Chapter 17

Grant

“Concentrate.”

“I am.”

“On the task at hand, not whatever it is that’s distracting you.”

“The only thing distracting me, is you,” she muttered, but not quietly in the least. “What you’re asking me to do doesn’t even make sense, and don’t even pretend you’re some sort of expert on this, because for once, that’s impossible.”

We sat across from one another, knees nearly touching—but not—eyes closed. Well, my eyes
were
. I opened one and found Amelia glaring at me.

“You haven’t had a heartbeat in like, two hundred freaking years.”

I looked up at the ceiling.

Degas…

Rembrandt…

Kahlo…

Klee…

“What are you doing?” she snapped.

“Calming myself.”

“To prove you’re better than me?”

“To keep myself from tearing this room apart in frustration,” I said, through gritted teeth. “You’re not making it any easier.”

She assessed me, clearly trying to determine if I’d made that up to annoy her. Her eyes landed on my taut jaw and she must have realized the truth. We all had to learn to control ourselves.

That was the point of all this. Figuring out how to slow Amelia’s heart—make it imperceptible. She didn’t need it—not in a traditional sense. And the constant thrum made her a target.

“You’re the most controlled, composed person I’ve ever met, Grant.”

I laughed, loud and genuine, which only annoyed her more. I said, “You know it took me decades to at least present the façade that I’m not losing my shit constantly.” Her eyebrow quirked at my use of profanity. “So I have tricks. I catalogue my clothes. I collect memorabilia. I repeat the names of the Masters in my head, until I feel ready.”

“It’s not the same,” she tried, but her tone had softened.

I set my eyes on her and licked my bottom lip. “I had to move past the painters to the sculptors the first time I met you.” Her heart quickened and I said, “Slow it down. Make yourself invisible.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Close your eyes and think of something—something calming. Peaceful. Settle your bones, your blood.”

“It’s dumb. And who really cares anyway?”

I paused and reached for the amulet, palming it in my hand. “This ’gift’ from Laurel has put a target on your back. Something I cannot anticipate or predict, but if you want me to allow you outside those doors, you’ll have to do this. I’m not willing to risk it.”

“What do you think is going to happen? I’m nothing but a freak!”

I reached for her hand and am shocked that she allowed me to take it. “Remember how your blood called to me when you were a human?”

“Yes.”

“Well imagine that times every vampire in the world.”

“But why?”

I shrugged. “It’s different—it’s strange. And it may just be the Holy Grail.”

“See? Dumb.” She rolled her eyes.

I leaned forward and touched her chin with my fingers. “Please, Amelia. I haven’t asked you for anything else.”

Guilt flashed across her features. It was a low move. The only one I had to make. And lucky for me she sighed, letting me know she was willing to concede. For now.

“We can try again. One more time,” she said.

Back in our positions I sensed the hesitancy, the tension in her body. Amelia had always been a fighter, filled with passion and intensity, and learning of a weakness didn’t sit well with her. Her anger needed to shift to control. It was fundamentally important to who we were as a species. Especially the way the Palmers lived.

She closed her eyes and slowly, incrementally, her heartbeat lessened, barely audible in the silent room.

“Good,” I said.

A slight smile curved at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Once more?”

The smile disappeared. “Once.”

“Thank you.”

December 1

Dearest Diary,

I want to go to town.

That's all. Just to town. I want to walk down the street and see people. I want to look in the windows of the shops. I don't even have to go in the shops. I'd be happy with the drive-thru of the local Mexican take-out, even if I can't eat it. I simply want to lean my head out the window and shout into the drive through box, "bean burrito, no onions" just to hear the scratchy voice on the other end. I'm tired of everything being delivered by one of the Palmers or being left at the end of the long, winding driveway so I can't accidentally attack and eat a UPS guy.

Today I nicely asked Grant if we could go somewhere. It's been weeks. Per usual, he said no. He gave me a condescending smile that didn't dampen his ridiculously good looks before returning to his work. His work. Not Palmer Foundation stuff—that had been handed over to Genevieve. This was something else. About Sebastian.

They’re looking for him.

Despite his charm, I was determined. He left me no choice. I had to play hardball.

I went to the bedroom and changed out of the Queen T-shirt and ratty jeans I had been wearing for a week straight. I don't change clothes often since I accidentally broke the knob off the washer. One of the perks of being a vampire is not sweating or having any body oils. I dug through my drawer and found what I was looking for.

I can do this
, I told myself, slipping on a black, lacy, too-revealing tank top and a tight pair of boy shorts Olivia had delivered. I fluffed my hair once in the mirror.

I did feel a little guilty as I walked out of the bedroom, shorts riding up my ass because Olivia is convinced I'm a size four when I'm really a size six. My actions could be seen as a low blow since I’ve refused to let Grant see me naked, touch me, or put his parts anywhere near my parts since the change.

But I did it anyway. I did. I tried to seduce my vampire boyfriend so I could go out in public and possibly get a bag of nachos I could never eat.

He pretended not to notice when I walked in, but he did; I sense things like that now. The quick flick of his eye, the tightening of his jaw, even how he sucked in a breath so he wouldn't have to smell me. I was onto him, he totally wanted me, and I planned to use my new attributes against him.

Pacing myself, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other without breaking something and positioned myself directly in front of him, jutting my chest out suggestively. I saw his fingers clench over the edge of the couch and his lower body shift discretely, but he persevered. I removed the papers from his hands and calmly placed them on the end table before straddling his lap.

He responded, some parts more than others, precisely as I wanted. Other parts, like his mouth, didn't. This is exactly what he said:

"Amelia, you look lovely. And as much as I want you right now, like, really want you, there’s no way in hell I am letting you do this to get your way. Forget it."

THAT is what he said to me.

Of course he also said it with his eyes glued to my chest and his dick pressing like an iron rod into my thigh. Asshole. I shimmed off his lap, lingering just enough to make him wince, and stormed off to my room. I slammed the door hard enough to tear the hinges from the wall and crack the molding on one side.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the closet rearranging Grant's shoes, while he repaired the bedroom door. I took the laces out of each one and replaced it with a different, opposing one from another shoe. The perfect rows of shoes were mixed and matched, just enough to send his obsessive compulsive tendencies in overdrive. The amazing thing about having no concept of time is that getting back at my cock-blocking boyfriend could go on as long as I felt like doing it.

Tomorrow I plan to focus on his T-shirt collection.