Sucker for Love (10 page)

“Exactly,” my father declared. “You’re getting lax,” my father told Jack. “You didn’t even hear me coming.”

“I was tired. I haven’t been getting much sleep since Mandy and I are trying for a baby.”

“I have been keeping him up,” she offered, sliding an arm through his. “Come on, honey, let’s get you a drink.”

Inside, my mother approached an antique cherry-wood sideboard and started dishing out drinks. I’d set up an official in-office appointment with Ivan and was just about to guzzle a glass of AB—when my mother snatched me to the side.

“You were supposed to distract her while I slipped the stuff into her glass.”

“I was so busy talking to Ivan that I forgot.”

“Really?” Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, well. It makes no nevermind. Mission accomplished.” She smiled and crossed the room toward my father, who was retelling the story (for the fifth time) of how he’d outsmarted and overpowered Jack.

My gaze swiveled toward Mandy, who stood near the sideboard, a glass of what appeared to be iced tea in her hand.

She lifted the glass and touched her lips and a bolt of panic raced through me.

I reached her in a nanosecond, snatched her glass and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Sorry,” I gasped. “It just looked so good and I was really thirsty. I’ll get you another one.”

One that wasn’t spiked with birth control.

The thought struck and I realized what I’d just done. My stomach went queasy and my own ovaries gave a shout of disapproval.

Then again, it’s not like I was using them.

As much as I hated to admit it, Ty and I weren’t exactly a match made in biological heaven. There would be no babies in our future. No picking out baby furniture or buying teeny, tiny outfits, or framing pics of the ultrasound.

For the record, I’ve never been one of those sappy vampires who dreams of having a great big baby shower with little pink and blue petit fours and a safety pin corsage. No diaper cake centerpiece. Or pastel-wrapped gifts. I am so
not
a pastel person. I never have been.

Except maybe lavender. I do sort of like lavender.

But I digress. The point is, I’ve never really fantasized about the baby part. The commitment ceremony, yes. Beyond that? Well, I usually didn’t make it past the honeymoon in Aruba.

Still, while I didn’t sit around fantasizing about it, it’s always been something that I knew I would experience. Sooner or later.

Or so I’d thought.

My chest hitched and my eyes watered. I blinked
frantically. Who needed babies? A great relationship. A fabulous career. I was set.

Really.

“You should have a soda,” I told Mandy as I retrieved a can of Sprite from a small refrigerator built into the wall. “Tea has too much caffeine.” I popped the lid and poured her a glass.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I think I need something stronger.”

As optimistic as I was, I knew my
no-bebes
realization wasn’t going down without a chaser.

I grabbed a bottle of vodka and opened up the hatch.

“S
he left me,” Rob announced when he showed up on my doorstep later that night.

At least I thought it was him.

I blinked away the vodka haze until my gaze focused. His features sharpened and, sure enough, he was standing there, live and in color, and looking as miserable as I felt.

He ran a hand through his short brown hair and grimaced. “Everything was fine early this morning. She came home from work. We had sex. We fed. I did her. We took a shower. She did me. We watched
The View.
I gave it to her. She gave it—”

“I get it.” I sipped a cup of Starbucks House Blend and willed the floor to stop trembling. “You. Nina. Sexual Nirvana.”

“But when we woke up this afternoon, she was
like this pod chick. Cold. Indifferent. She got mad at me for no reason, so I got mad at her because she got mad at me. Then we got into a big knock-down, drag-out.”

“No wonder you weren’t at Mom and Dad’s.”

“She said Mom was a control freak and she wasn’t spending another second with her at some stupid hunt.”

Forget BFFs. We were definitely twins.

“She said it was over,” he went on, “and then she kicked me out.”

The news sobered me the way no amount of specialty coffee could. “Oh, Rob. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t know what happened. One minute we were great, the next …”

He looked so sad and pathetic and my chest tightened. Guilt rolled through me, followed by a rush of protective instinct. He was my brother, after all.

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything.”

The statement seemed to snap him out of it. He looked at me as if I’d announced I was going on a no-plasma diet. “Damn straight I didn’t do anything.”

Rob meet Denial. Denial meet Rob.

“It’s all her.” He turned and retrieved an Under Armour duffel bag from the hallway. Dropping it inside my door, he pushed past me into my apartment. “She’s crazy. She’s probably sucked one too many schizophrenics and now it’s messing with her brain. That happened to Great-uncle Robert,
remember? He was never the same again after he went on a feeding frenzy at that insane asylum.”

“But
you’ve
fed on
her,
right?” I toed his bag out of the way, closed the door and followed him into the living room. “And if she’s crazy, then that would make you—”

“Lucky,” he cut in, dropping onto the sofa, “that I realized what was happening and took a hike before she contaminated me. I was so outta there.”

“But I thought
she
kicked
you
out?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“That she broke up with you and you don’t have a clue as to why?”

“That she broke up with me because she knew I was just a heartbeat away from breaking up with her and she wanted to do it first.” He wagged a finger at me. “Don’t think I don’t know how you females operate. It’s all a big game. You get wind that we’re getting disinterested and,
bam,
you cut your losses and bail. Then we’re left wondering what the hell happened and you get to take credit for dropping the ax.” He shrugged. “Not that I give a shit. Let her take the credit. I’m just glad she saved me the trouble and the guilt.”

Yeah, I’ll bet.

“Hell, I’m happy about it,” he went on. “Pumped.” He flexed his arms. “Why, this is the best fucking night of my afterlife.”

I folded my arms and eyed him. “So what are you doing here?”

“I told you, she kicked me out.”

“But it’s your apartment. Shouldn’t she be the one packing her bags?”

“She’s just staying until she finds something she likes. Then she’s out and I’m back in. I give it a week, tops.”

“Are you kidding me? This is New York. It takes longer than a week to find a parking space.”

“I know. That’s why it’s a good thing I’ve got a place to stay.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

My gaze swiveled to the duffel bag and reality hit.
Here.

Time out.

It’s not that I don’t love my brother. I do. At the same time, he (like all
mes frères) can
be a royal pain in the ass. He’s macho and chauvinistic and conceited and narcissistic and (this is the kicker) even more spoiled than I am. It was hard enough dealing with my own inner brat. I wasn’t putting up with anyone else’s.

On top of
that,
I was in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship. Ty and I needed our alone time.

Or we would just as soon as his work calmed down enough so that he could actually spend more than a few hours with me.

“You can’t stay here,” I told him. “Just grow some balls, go home and tell Nina she’ll have to go to a hotel.”

“I’ve got balls,” he said defensively. “Big ones. Massive.”

“Then you won’t have any trouble tossing her toward the nearest Hyatt.”

“A hotel’s so impersonal.”

“She works at a hotel.”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t tell me to sleep at Moe’s.”

“Hey, there’s an idea.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s only fair you should be the one to keep the apartment,” I pressed. “It’s
your
apartment.”

“True, but I can’t kick her out on the street.”

I wanted to point out that if it had been any other female vampire (and he had a long list of them in his past), he would have kicked her out and slammed the door without so much as a twinge of conscience.

We’re talking a born male vampire. Hitler had nothing on ’em.

“I mean,” he rushed on, “I
could
kick her out. I
would.
But what if she gets vindictive? I don’t want some crazy pulling a
Fatal Attraction.”

At least that’s what he said.

But I didn’t miss the flicker of hurt in his eyes and the tick in his right jaw. He was upset and doing his best not to show it.

A front that would crumble soon enough, once he passed
I’m the luckiest SOB on earth and
cruised straight into
I suck rocks and it’s no wonder she left my sorry ass.

“A week,” I told him. “But then you move back to your own apartment.”

“Yeah.” He craned his neck, scoped out the surroundings and rubbed his hands together. “So, do you have any blood?” He pushed to his feet. “I’m starved.”

“If you’re looking for a fresh maiden, I’m afraid I’m all out.”

“What about something from the deli?” He started for the kitchen.

I was right on his heels, alarm rattling through me. This was my brother. Marchette flesh and blood. He lived to hypnotize and tantalize and sink his fangs into a sweet, succulent neck. Any neck so long as it was attached to breasts and a vagina. “Since when do you bottle it?”

He hauled open the fridge and ducked his head in. “Bottled blood is as good as any.” He pulled a full bottle of imported AB—from the shelf.

“So sayeth a vamp who is totally whipped.”

Grabbing a corkscrew, he frowned. “I’m not whipped.” He wound the screw into the top and a loud
popppp
followed. “I don’t even like Nina.”

No, he loved her. He was just too proud to admit it because he thought she didn’t love him. But she did. She was just too scared to admit it.

And they said humans were clueless when it came to relationships?

“You should be scourging the countryside for
sweet, succulent virgins,” I told him. “At the very least, a semi-decent hottie with great taste in clothes. Unless, of course”—I eyeballed him—“you still have feelings for Nina.”

“Are you kidding?” He went for an I-don’t-give-a-shit look and failed miserably. “I couldn’t care less about her. That virgin thing”—he pointed at me—“I’m on it.” Instead of bothering with a glass and a microwave, he gulped the blood cold and headed back to the living room. “First thing tomorrow night,” he called over his shoulder.

I followed him. “Why not tonight?”

“It’s Sunday,” he said, as if that explained everything. He collapsed on the sofa. Bottle in one hand, he reached for my remote and flipped on the TV. “ESPN is running a replay of the Giants versus the Cowboys.” He toed off his boots, planted his feet on my coffee table and settled back into the sofa. “I heard it’s one helluva game.”

“Why don’t we go out?” The sooner he started hooking up with new women, the sooner he would realize that Nina was the only woman for him.

That, and the fact that I was feeling pretty crappy.

I needed a distraction from the whole Esther situation. Since the office was closed on Sunday, I was on my own for a diversion.

“A brother and sister night,” I added. “You know, two siblings doing the town. Kicking up their heels. Having fun.”

“Sounds fuckin’ A,” he murmured, but he’d
already tuned me out. “Maybe tomorrow.” He grabbed a throw pillow, leaned back and shoved it under his head. He took another swig of blood.

My gaze went to Killer. “What about you? You up for a walk?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “We could go window-shopping.”

Are you kidding me? There’s so much estrogen floating around here I’m practically suffocating as it is.
He blinked and leapt up onto the couch. Settling next to Rob, he propped his head on my brother’s thigh and eyed the TV.
It’s about time we had a little testosterone in this place.

“Fine. Do the male bonding thing.” I nailed Killer with a knowing stare. “But if anyone starts a pissing contest, I swear I’m kicking you both out.”

I left Rob and Killer in the living room, retreated to my bedroom and spent the next several hours sucking down coffee and Tums and Googling “Mordred Lucius.”

Ash had said the ritual site would have special significance for Mordred.

A place he’d been before.

Someplace he felt comfortable.

Powerful.

As odd as his name was, there were actually 108 listed as living in the United States. I went for the only one with a current address in New York (he’d had a driver’s license) and continued my search until I’d accumulated twelve past known addresses.

I could only hope he wasn’t going for a location
prior to computerized records and Google. He
was
over eight hundred years old.