Stealing Time (16 page)

I gave a shuddering sigh and pressed my forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Getting there.”

“Would it help to talk about it?”

Ashamed, I moved closer to him.

“Evie, there is nothing in this world that could change my love for you. Nothing that could ruin our time together. Whatever hesitation you have about us, I am content to wait for eternity.”

“I don’t deserve…” I whispered, stunned by this man, by
James.

His arms tightened around me. “Hush, now. I won’t hear such things. I have waited so long for you,
ma mie.
”

Pulling back just enough to look up at him, I lifted a hand to caress his cheek. “How can you be so sure of me?”

“Anything less is…incomprehensible.” He turned to kiss my hand. “You fill my heart and mind and soul. And as much time as I am given, I pray to God that it may be spent with you. Evie, how can I
not
be sure of everything about you?”

I gazed at him, speechless, touched beyond words by the palpable depth of his emotion.

He breathed a kiss across my forehead. “Can you tell me what it is you fear? What holds some part of you back from me?”

“I told you before—I don’t believe in tempting fate. Considering today’s events, with good reason.”

Running light fingertips down my spine—which should’ve tickled, but didn’t—he shook his head. “That’s part of it. But only a small part. What is it, Evie, that keeps you from me?”

Unbidden, the memory of Mama’s car driving around the corner and out of sight filled my mind. Tired of the hurt and fear, I mentally cursed myself for a coward and faced the truth.

“It’s that…I’m…I’m so afraid I’ll turn out like Mama,” I whispered. “That I’ll…I’ll run when things get too hard.”

James made a strangled noise and crushed me against his chest. “That is all?”

I barked a laugh and when I spoke, my voice was raw. “All? James, that’s everything! I can’t stand the idea that I could do to you what my own mother…” I trailed off, unable to finish.

“In all my long life, I have never known a person less likely to run or give up when things get difficult. You simply do not have it in you.” He lifted my chin with a gentle finger, and his dark gaze was tender and achingly sweet.

Hope flared and my breath caught as I met his unswerving eyes. “Such certainty,” I marveled.

“I watched for the better part of a year while you fought a terminal illness, alone. I saw you get mangled in that damned taxi and watched you cling to life long enough for the change to take you. And I watched, not an hour ago, while you refused to die from a wound that should have killed you. Evie, it would not surprise me to learn that you marched up to the gates of heaven and cowed Saint Peter himself into returning you here.”

I laughed, as he’d intended. A little embarrassed by his words, I murmured, “Well, gee, when you put it that way…”

“Believe
me
until you are ready to believe in yourself.” He smiled and dipped his head to kiss my lips, once, twice. Then he slowly backed me under the spray, his eyes never leaving my own.

An odd echo flitted through my mind—the feel of hot water pounding on my chest and my back, somehow at the same time. There was a slight sense of vertigo and the echo was gone.

“I love you, Evie,” he whispered and kissed me hungrily. I met his passion before pulling back, smiling as he made a sound in protest.

I framed his beloved face with my hands. “Oh James…you are so precious to me.”

A beautiful smile lit his face and he pulled me to him, holding me with utmost care. He nuzzled along my cheek and I lifted my lips to his. And the next little while was all about reassurance and renewal, and the exquisite proof that miracles do happen.

Feeling smug, I decided that fate and Mama could rot in hell.

James’s pallor and tremors were worse after we’d showered and dressed, so I took his hand and towed him to the kitchen.

“My turn to take care of you,” I told him, much to his amusement. Pushing him onto a bar stool, I kissed his cheek before going into the pantry to rummage around. Calling it a “pantry” was inaccurate, though—the dang room was bigger than my kitchen at home and it took a few minutes to find the tray with its two glasses. I had to laugh at myself to be messing with leaded crystal and ornate silver serving trays—only for James would I go to such lengths, since I’d always been a beer-in-the-bottle girl, never bothering with a separate glass.

I carried the loaded tray back to the counter and set them down. When I picked up one of the glasses, it shattered in my hand.

“What on earth…?” I breathed.

James laughed. “You have mature blood in your system now.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “And I’m crushing glasses why?”

“Mature vampires are much stronger than young ones.”

“Ah, yes. The age thing.” I brushed the shattered glass bare-handed into the garbage can. “Young ones are faster, though, right?”

James snorted at the challenge in my voice. “Marginally,” he conceded.

Putting the garbage can back under the sink, I said, “But you don’t break glasses when you pick them up.”

“It’s all about control.” His mouth twitched.

“I don’t normally, either,” I pointed out.

“That’s because you’re accustomed to your own strength, which is still considerable. But it’s increased exponentially in a very short time. It will take some getting used to.”

“Will I stay this strong?” I asked, thinking darkly of the wake of destruction.

“Yes,” he said, unperturbed.

Muttering imprecations, I went back into the pantry and found another glass—allowing it to lie flat on my cupped hands, I got it to the counter in one piece and James chuckled at the care I was taking.

Watching me prepare our “meal,” he said, “I have been trying to make sense of the shooting and why Philippe would wish me dead, but haven’t come up with anything. I’ve not even seen him since the night of my change.”

I frowned to see how James kept his arms crossed and wasn’t fooled by this attempt to hide his tremor. “Philippe is the one who made you a vampire, right?”

“Yes. For that, at least, I should thank him since I would have died long ago from old age otherwise.” At my noisy swallow, he leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss.

“Dear old Uncle seems to be a bit conflicted about it now.” Eyeing James’s folded arms again, I turned and went back to the pantry. Carefully cradling the decanter, I studied the elaborate storage unit he had constructed along one wall. Once I’d located the spigot, it should’ve been a simple matter of filling the decanter. But my own hands had grown unsteady and there was the strangest feeling of an echo, just like that moment in the shower. I was somewhat thirsty…yet I was also ravenously thirsty. It was curious too that I felt no unease as I filled the decanter, the clear crystal took on a deep crimson color, and the air thickened with a delicious spiciness.

“Need any help?” James called out and I heard the smile in his voice.

I shook off the odd sensation and walked out to him, holding the full decanter with infinite care and imagining the ghastly mess if my hands were to break it. I got to the counter with it in one piece and—with total concentration—carefully poured a glass.

Feeling his gaze on me, I looked up to see his eyes going emerald.

“The way you stepped between the gun and me…You must promise, Evie, that you will never again place yourself in harm’s way.”

My chin went up. “Not going to happen.”

“I couldn’t bear it if…”

“And you think I could? Forget it, James. I’m not going to make a promise I have no intention of keeping.”

“Evelyn Reed…” he began.

“James Wesley…” I popped right back at him in the same tone of voice.

To forestall a pointless argument—nothing would keep me from getting between him and danger again—I held a glass to his lips. Knowing what I was up to, he scowled but didn’t resist. When he’d drained it, I preempted the argument yet again by pressing the second glass on him. This time, he cupped trembling hands around mine as I held it and I was both relieved that he could do it and appalled to see how he still shook. He was steady enough to handle a third on his own, even as I poured and started my first. The deep shadows under his eyes lightened only marginally and, considering how much he’d consumed, this was beyond alarming.

Aware that I was studying him, he said, “I am fine,
ma mie.
” He bent to nuzzle along my neck, grazing my throat with his fangs and purring at my sharp breath.

Eyeing him sternly and trying not to laugh, I asked, “Would you like another?”

“Perhaps one more, please.”

Since we’d emptied the decanter, I took his glass to the pantry to fill it. Only when he emptied the fourth glass did the shadows finally fade and his trembling subside.

My mind kept replaying the shooting. “What happened after I was shot? I heard fighting, but nothing made sense.”

“I ripped out Caleb’s throat and threw them both off the roof,” James said, his voice mostly growl.

“I don’t suppose that killed them.”

“Regrettably, no. Which is why we would be wise to leave the city for a while.”

“Leave? But…where would we go?”

“I have a cabin in a remote part of Canada that would be perfect. We can pull some things together and leave within the hour.” His expression was steady, but his voice was a bit rough.

While his concern was logical and leaving only prudent, I hated the thought that he’d have to abandon his home.

He studied my face and a soft smile curved his lips. “Truly, we should have left as soon as you healed. But we would have drawn too much attention to ourselves, considering all the blood and the lovely parts of you your sweater no longer concealed. As well, neither of us was in any condition to drive, not without first taking nourishment.”

“You’re worried that Caleb and Nathaniel will come here.”

“This home belonged to my parents, so Philippe knows its location. Sending his killers here would be a simple thing.”

“You seem pretty relaxed about the idea,” I remarked, surprised. “Why didn’t he just do that in the first place instead of sending them after us?”

“I am not the least relaxed. But I am reassured to have three friends watching the house at the moment.” At my quizzical look, he explained, “I made a few calls while I dealt with our clothes. As for your question, it is not possible to assign reason or rationality to anything Philippe does.”

Knowing James’s keen intellect, I said, “But I bet you have an idea.”

“Their having used a slayer’s gun, so close to a slayer’s home, makes me think Philippe’s intent was to frame Rome for my death.”

“Why go to such lengths?”

“To incite unrest among vampires. Kore’s feelings excepted, I have some standing among our kind and have earned Abasi’s favor.”

“So if you were killed by slayers, Abasi and the others would raise a stink with Rome.”

James’s smile was fleeting. “It is all supposition. But it is logical and Philippe is a loud advocate for eradicating the treaty, although—up to this point—it’s been nothing but talk.”

“So let’s just get your buddies and find Philippe before he can send anybody else after you. If he’s dead, he can’t hurt you.”

“That’s my vampire.” James bared his teeth in a feral grin. “I approve of the sentiment, but no one will move against him. Philippe and his followers have a reputation that keeps even the most foolhardy from challenging him openly. Watching over us is already straining the bonds of friendship. To ask more would be unkind.”

I busied myself cleaning up, but James easily read my anger.

Kneading my tense shoulders, he said, “Friendship among vampires is very different than among humans. What I have already asked is far beyond the norm and it is a mark of their regard that they agreed to help.”

“I was under the impression you and your friend Leo are close. Kore sure seemed to think so, the way she kept asking you about him.”

“We are good friends.” James grinned and took our glasses to the sink. “But there’s only one Leo and, unfortunately, he’s not even on the East Coast right now.”

I grumbled but held my peace. It’s not like I could pick up the phone and call three people to ask about the weather, let alone put them in the path of a supernatural psychopath. Who was I to judge?

James’s sudden stillness drew my eyes. He was so good at control that I had to really look to see that he was working to keep a handle on himself. I wanted to whack my thick skull—several times, really hard—as it dawned on me how difficult this must be for him. We were leaving the one place he truly could call home, a place where every stick of furniture had to hold special meaning for him. Had to remind him of the mortal family he’d lost long ago.

It was even worse that everything about this felt like retreat. For a man as strong and courageous as James, this had to be particularly bitter.

Crossing to him, I pressed my forehead against his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You okay?” This close, I could feel his power just under the surface of his skin. At the moment, it was like standing next to an enormous electric generator.

He overlaid my arms with his. “It goes against my instincts to run.”

“Then let’s stay and fight, James. There’s no reason…”

Turning to face me, his voice dropped to a growl. “There is every reason. My instincts be damned, I will not remain in a place where I cannot be sure of your safety.”

My chin came up. “I refuse to be the reason you leave your home.”

“Enough, Evie!” He closed his eyes and the muscles along his jaw worked. In a hard, low voice, he said, “I told you once before that even immortals must choose their battles. I am making this choice.
Me.
Your mate. And I damn well want you to accept it.”

I bit back my sharp response and took another good look at the emotions churning just within his control. Turned out I cared more about his pain than the need to assert my feminist rights. Nodding, I gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He didn’t quite seem to believe I’d given in so readily. “And Canada?”